


Hold out your hand

by MissingMissFisher (bokchoynomad)



Series: Double 0 Phrack: Fern & Archie's Undercover Murder Mysteries [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes, Maybe only one or two cliffhangers, Romantic Fluff, Sequel, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokchoynomad/pseuds/MissingMissFisher
Summary: It's not easy, love, but you've got friends you can trustFriends will be friendsWhen you're in need of love they give you care and attentionFriends will be friendsWhen you're through with life and all hope is lostHold out your hand 'cause friends will be friendsRight till the end— Queen, Friends Will Be FriendsSummary:Detective Inspector Jack Robinson accompanies the Honourable Phryne Fisher on a visit to her family’s ancestral estate following their reunion and adventures in Buckinghamshire. But, their arrival quickly becomes a disaster as Jack is caught in the middle of the incendiary relationship between the Baroness and her daughter. When the daughter of a neighbouring estate goes missing, the inspector agrees to go undercover to discover her whereabouts whilst still having to navigate the unwelcome tide from several members of the British aristocracy's oldest families.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/gifts).



> This fic started out as a (very long overdue) birthday fic gift for the lovely @comeaftermejackrobinson who insisted that I write a super fluffy sequel to my long casefic, Never Expected. 
> 
> So, what started out as a fluffy piece slowly began to morph into one with a slight mystery (it wouldn't be quite MFMM without one, would it?). And, now, it has grown into another undercover case so I could sneak it under the wire for June's MFMM Trope Challenge undercover theme (after all, it would have been such a shame to miss out on that)! 
> 
> With no further ado, Happy Belated Birthday, @comeaftermejackrobinson!
> 
> P.S. 1: You won't be missing out on anything if you haven't yet read Never Expected, but I hope it will enhance your reading experience if you have!  
> P.S. 2: The title derives from the above song lyrics by Queen, one of @comeaftermejackrobinson's favourite bands.

The Honourable Phryne Fisher returned the bookmark to her novel and dropped it to her side as she closed her eyes before blinking furiously to rid them of their dryness. She then stretched her arms over her head in an exaggerated motion to work out the kinks in her back.

At the sound of someone clearing his throat loudly, she slowed her movements and slid backwards, whilst artfully draping herself into a seductive pose. She did all this whilst never removing her eyes from the man sitting across from her with one leg crossed over his knee. Despite the fact that he held his own book in front of him, she knew that she had stolen his attention judging from the amused sparkle escaping from his greyish-blue eyes that were peering over the top of the book’s pages to watch her antics. The hint of a smile tugged at the side of his lips as he watched her with raised eyebrows.

“Are the train’s first class cushions not up to your satisfaction, Miss Fisher?”

“Usually, they don’t bother me in the slightest,” she responded before her features and tone took on a deliberate innocent tone. “Then again, I could be sitting on a bed of feathers and it wouldn’t do a thing to help soothe the currently extra sensitive state that I’ve found my body to be in this morning, Inspector.”

“What exactly are you insinuating then, Miss Fisher? Do I need to arrest anyone for causing grievous bodily harm to you then?”

“Only if you promise that it will involve handcuffs, Inspector!” The melodic glee of her laughter burst across their spacious compartment and rained down on them at the sight of her partner’s blush and obvious discomfiture at the playful suggestion. Especially on a public source of transportation no less!

“Good thing I am not in possession of any at the moment then.” If any other observer had been watching the inspector at that moment, perhaps, they would have simply seen his dour expression that brooked no arguments. Miss Fisher, however, instantly spotted the hidden teasing glimmer in his expression, and knew he’d have to pay the price for it.

“Well, you’ll just have to make it up to me in another form, Inspector,” the lady detective declared as she rose to her feet suddenly and slid neatly onto her travelling companion’s lap. “ _You_ can be my cushion until our arrival in Somerset instead.”

“Lucky for me and my knees that that should be happening rather shortly,” he responded in his best resigned tone as his heart sped up as she burrowed her face against the crook of his neck, and her arms fastened themselves around him securely.

“Wake me up when we arrive,” her muffled voice instructed him as she promptly dozed off contentedly.

Jack locked his arms about her to anchor her slackening form against him before picking up his book again and continuing the latest adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Phryne had found a gorgeous, leather-bound edition containing the entire works of Conan Doyle’s stories about the Victorian detective during one of their delightful jaunts to a nearly hidden secondhand bookshop in Bloomsbury. It had been years since he had read them, and it only seemed fitting now that he had walked along the pavement of the actual Baker Street in London (too bad 221B was not even a real residence!). He was enjoying getting caught up in the fog and mystery of Victorian London when the feeling of being watched jolted him back to his current surroundings.

“I think we’re still about twenty minutes away, Phryne, keep resting, I’ll wake you up.”

“Thank you, Jack,” she paused briefly before nuzzling herself back against him. But, the inspector noticed that she remained awake. And oddly quiet. Too quiet.

As the miles blurred past their window, Jack couldn’t help noticing her grow uncharacteristically more pensive. But, she still responded to his questions or actions affectionately. He decided to not mention anything, and continued to try to observe and to deduce her thoughts and changing mood as the train carried them further west across the English countryside.

Eventually, the steam engine pulled into the historical textile town of Chard, where they were to disembark and then travel the remainder of the way via motorcar. Jack looked over at his partner, who had taken over the rest of the seat by that point using his lap as her pillow. He smiled down into her upturned crystal blue eyes and raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

“At Chard we be, milady. I believe our other chariot awaits?”

“Indeed, Sir Jack!” She played along, slowly pulling herself upright and swinging her stockinged legs back down towards the compartment’s floor to search for her shoes. “I’m sure Mother and Father must have sent Richards to come fetch us. He’s their latest chauffeur.”

Jack had risen to his feet, and was attempting to gather what he could of their things. Eventually, he decided to give up on the smattering of items Phryne had left strewn about the compartment and focused on tracking down a porter instead. They had a lot more items with them during this trip since Miss Fisher had decided to transport more of her belongings with them from the Fishers’ townhouse in London. She had also insisted on purchasing Jack a brand new trunk during their excursion emblazoned with his initials, reassuring him that he’d need it for their ongoing adventures. After realising there was no point in resisting, the inspector had insisted on covering the costs for any additional sartorial items she had chosen for him since she had a better idea of what would be required for this part of their trip. Although, his trunk was suspiciously more full then he recalled when he had opened it to finish packing just that morning.

Gradually, they made their way off of the train where they met by a handsome young man in a crisp uniform whom Phryne greeted with what Jack could tell was a surprisingly muted version of her usual effervescence.

“Thank you so much for coming to meet us, Richards,” she stated mechanically.

“Of course, miss,” Richards responded appropriately, but with the unmistakable starstruck expression on his face that Jack had learned to grow accustomed to detecting on people’s (especially other men’s) features whenever they were bestowed any attention by the dazzling Miss Fisher. Her wooden demeanour changed when she turned to loop her arm through Jack’s with more of her usual smile.

“Richards, this is Detective Inspector Jack Robinson with the Victoria Constabulary in Melbourne. Jack, this is Adam Richards, our family’s chauffeur.”

“Pleased to meet you, Inspector,” he responded with a slightly stiff bow before turning swiftly back towards Phryne. “Now, miss, if you will excuse me, do allow me to arrange for the porters to transport your items to the motorcar for our journey to Clarington Court.”

“He seems, er, rather devoted,” Jack couldn’t help commenting.

“Yes, he’s the son of a brother of one of Father’s poker mates down at the local pub, who apparently made it part of a bet that Father, of course, lost. So that meant he had to employ him,” Phryne explained with a little wave of her hand. “But, he had no clue how, so when I heard that Richards was a mechanic, I suggested he become their driver since Griggs, their usual chauffeur, could barely see anymore. Richards’ has actually been a refreshing change to the rest of the household servants considering we inherited most of the others.”

Jack tucked this little nugget of information away as Miss Fisher led him out of the station once they spotted Richards leading a couple porters to struggle with their trunks and luggage towards a pristine, white Rolls Royce Phantom. Jack attempted to mask his gawking over the vehicle whilst Richards opened the back door for Phryne to slip inside where she watched her partner fondly until Jack finally climbed in after her. They then continued on the remainder of their journey in mostly silence except for the odd question from Richards that Jack answered as he took in the new landscapes surrounding them. Phryne again remained quieter than usual.

“Everything all right, Miss Fisher?” He couldn’t help asking at one point, no longer able to mask his concern.

“Of course, Jack,” she reassured him with her head once again nestled against his shoulder. “Just a jot tired. Besides, I could navigate this journey in my sleep. But, I promise to give you a personal and thorough tour of everything, don’t you worry.”

Deciding it wasn’t the right time to probe the internal tension he could sense underlying her words, the inspector simply squeezed the fingers intertwined with his without another word until Richards left the main country lane they were rumbling down. Eventually, the tree-lined avenue revealed his first glimpses of Clarington Court, the stately Elizabethan Tudor manor that belonged to the family of every Baron of Richmond-Upon-Thame since the late 1550s.

Jack’s eyes widened as it finally dawned on him that not only would he be staying at this impressive structure that had been built during the late medieval period, but that the woman nestled beside him had had to go from the desperation of Collingwood to spending the remainder of her girlhood here amongst these imposing grand archways and perpendicular turrets. This fact alone solidified his respect and admiration of her remarkable resiliency, and deepened his own devotion to her. Men like Richards really didn’t stand a chance.

The massive oak door swung open before the chauffeur barely had the chance to brake, and a smartly-dressed, elderly gentleman descended the steps much more quickly than his appearance seemed to imply possible. He approached Phryne’s side of the car, and opened it with a deep bow just as she was stirring and peeling herself away from the inspector’s side.

“Welcome home, Miss Phryne!”

“Thank you, Mr Buxton, I trust you’ve been keeping things in order?”

“I am insulted that you should ask,” the butler responded in a mock injured tone as he offered his hand to assist Miss Fisher alight from the motorcar.

“Mr Buxton, this is my partner, Detective Inspector Robinson,” she introduced Jack. “Jack, this is Mr Buxton, whose family has been serving the Fishers for several generations now.”

“Pleasure, sir,” Mr Buxton again bowed in response to Jack’s nod, causing him to quickly tuck his outstretched hand into his trousers instead. “Welcome to Clarington Court.”

“Are Mother and Father in, Mr Buxton?” Phryne enquired as they followed the older gentleman into the luxurious, entryway, which Jack would later learn was simply called, “The Great Room.” She began to remove her gloves and fur stole, which a maid suddenly materialised from nowhere to take.

“No, miss, they are both currently at tea over at Barrowby Hall. However, Lady Fisher did ask me to request that you and the inspector join them for dinner in the formal dining room later this evening.”

“I see,” Phryne responded with a momentary grimace marring the smile gracing her face. “Very well then, Mr Buxton, thank you ever so much for your assistance.” Jack, however, spotted her reaction and recognised the slight chill infused into her tone. He lifted a hand to clasp lightly over the one she was tightening around his elbow. She responded by relaxing immediately.

“Very good, miss. Now, if you don’t require anything else, I’d be pleased to escort Inspector Robinson to his guest suite.”

“That’s quite all right, Mr Buxton, I’m more than happy to show the inspector to his rooms. Which one has Mother assigned to him then?”

After receiving the information that she sought, Jack once again found himself being pulled along by a silent Phryne. She marched them up a wide staircase, and then turned down one massive hallway surrounded by detailed tapestries, before rounding the corner through a sunlit gallery filled with countless paintings. Eventually, they arrived before an arched doorway carved with intricate leaf patterns, which she stopped to open with a flourish and overly dramatic curtsy.

“Your rooms await you, Inspector. For reasons unknown, Mother has decided to have the Sherwood Forest Suite prepared for you.”

Jack wasn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or concerned at the sudden return of her usual impish grin that she flashed him over her shoulder as he followed her inside.

“Hmm, so long as she doesn't insist on calling me ‘Sheriff’ for the duration of my visit, I'm sure I will cope.” He paused to take a quick glance around the opulent and very green shades of the room they were standing in. A quick glance through one of the doors revealed a massive four poster bed that was wrapped in emerald curtains. The rest of the furniture reflected dark woods and heavily brocaded upholstery, giving him the impression that he had indeed stepped back in time to a place filled with merry, outlawed bandits.

“Perhaps, you will, but I'm not so sure about myself,” she pouted slightly as she reached out to stroke his tie. “I've grown rather accustomed to having you in close proximity, Inspector. Especially at night.”

“Do I detect that this entire guest wing is far removed from, er, the family wing?”

“How did you know? For example, my rooms are on the complete opposite side of the house,” she blinked at him in faux innocence. “But, we both know you’re not afraid of anything, Inspector, so you shouldn’t worry too much. Although, I think I should forewarn you to expect a very frequent nighttime visitor.”

“So long as it doesn’t involve any break-ins with a dagger...or a bow and arrow, Miss Fisher.” He swayed slightly as she tugged him even closer before slipping his tie completely off and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Speaking of break-ins, I think we should break-in that ancient-looking guest bed of yours...Sheriff. Can’t have you damaging your back from a crusty, old mattress now. Plus, dinner isn’t for hours yet.”

“Lead the way, Miss Fisher.”

And that she did, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has the "pleasure" of making the acquaintance of the enigmatic Lady Margaret Fisher...

The inspector darted a side glance and bunched his lips in mock exasperation when he felt the slight flutter of nimble fingers reaching up to adjust his smartly tied bow tie. She, of course, had insisted on redoing it when they had only just met at the top of the stairs before she smoothed out his new dinner jacket (that he, of course, had insisted on covering the expense for whilst trying not to think how many month’s wages it equalled).

The handsome couple had just approached a set of huge ornate doors, only pausing as a pair of crisply-dressed footmen moved promptly to open them. Phryne pursed her own freshly lacquered red lips into a tiny pout of an air kiss in his direction complete with a brief, yet no less than usual saucy wink as she squeezed his elbow and propelled him forward with her into the room.

The interior of this room was slightly smaller than the few Jack had had the chance to observe thus far of the stately home (seeing how Phryne had been far more interested in helping him get acquainted with his guest suite, and that their brief tour only lasted until they had reached her own rooms). But, it was no less grand, he conceded, with a glance at the long floor-to-ceiling windows and the lit, sparkling, crystal chandelier. Somehow, it still exuded a warmer and intimate atmosphere with its contrasting dark and pastel shades and more modern art deco furniture and decorations. In fact, it seemed to have Phryne’s influence stamped all over it.  

“At last, Phryne! We’d just about thought Buxton would have to go mount a search party for you,” an unfamiliar voice smoothly rang out from behind a large grand piano where its owner had been seated at the bench. She rose to her feet then, and emerged in full view of its newly-arrived occupants. “Although, he may still do so yet considering your father has yet to put in an appearance as well.”

Jack blinked back his surprise as an expensively-clad and attractive figure approached them holding some sort of cocktail in an elegant hand graced by a glove that reached well past her elbows. Her shining dark hair was streaked becomingly with white and pinned up in the current fashion. But, it was her eyes especially that arrested him as he found himself staring into a near mirrored, yet older, image of Phryne’s striking features. Only those of Lady Margaret Fisher, Baroness of Richmond-upon-Thames, contained a chilling sense of remoteness albeit they were no less beautiful. Her ladyship also seemed to share a similar haughtiness and shortness of stature with her sister, Prudence. Phryne had obviously inherited her mother’s beauty and elegance, and her father’s height, charm...and penchant for getting into trouble.

As though he was able to read Jack’s thoughts, the baron himself chose that moment to come rushing into the room. “Do pardon my tardiness, my love,” he started rambling out an excuse to his wife before halting right behind his daughter and her partner who were still standing in the middle of the room.

“Oh, hello, my dear girl! And Inspector! Good to see you again, Jack, welcome to Clarington Court!” He enthusiastically bellowed whilst pumping Jack’s hand and pounding him on the shoulder for good measure after giving his daughter a peremptory kiss on the cheek in greeting. “Buxton, where are our drinks, man?”

The butler dutifully materialised with a tray containing three aperitifs that Henry quickly grabbed and pushed into Phryne and Jack’s hands before venturing towards his wife who had observed her husband’s hasty entrance in silence.

“Mother, I was just about to make the introductions before Father interrupted us,” Phryne sent her father a pointed glare of annoyance that Jack instantly recognised. “This is Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of the Victorian Constabulary in Melbourne. Inspector, this is my mother, Lady Margaret Fisher. And, you’ve obviously already met Father.”

“It’s very good to finally meet the man that both my daughter and husband have told me so much about,” Lady Fisher responded, holding out her hand towards the inspector. “I trust that you had a pleasant journey, and have been well-looked after since your arrival?” She lifted a quizzical, yet dainty eyebrow that again seem to be an exact replica of an expression Jack regularly encountered from “Fisher the Younger.”

“Thank you, yes, Baroness,” Jack responded, furiously fighting the urge to blush at her insinuation, after taking Margaret’s outstretched hand. She saved him the trouble of wondering whether or not he should shake it or kiss it by lifting it to her daughter’s face.

“Hello, my darling, that’s a lovely shade of navy on you,” her mother commented with another sweeping glance at Phryne’s stunning evening gown. “Is it new?”

“Why, yes, thank you,” her daughter replied in the same mechanical tone Jack noted she seemed to have adapted since their arrival in Somerset. “Lucien was able to finish it before we left London.” Jack recalled their recent trip to visit the famous French couturier where he was treated to a private viewing of the latest haute couture styles by his favourite model.

“I am long overdue a visit, and shall send him my compliments when I can next make it to town.”

“Pardon me, my lord and my lady,” Buxton suddenly reappeared, “but might I have the pleasure of announcing that your dinner is ready to be served.”

The two couples followed the servant through another door and into one of the largest rooms the inspector had ever seen, especially for dining. The vaulted ceiling was painted with a Renaissance-style fresco of clouds and interesting cherubs and other seemingly non-related characters peering over the white cumuluses. One of the earlier footmen was now stationed by the table that could have easily seated twenty-odd people, and thus, dwarfing their little party as they took their seats right in the middle. Jack took in the snowy white table cloth and shining cutlery and obviously very expensive china ware before the sensation of something silky sliding up his leg caught his attention. He glanced across the table at his partner who was chatting away with her father as though they were long lost friends.

In fact, that was pretty much the way father and daughter remained throughout the meal. Sumptuous though it was, Jack supposed he should feel grateful for the opportunity to savour it given the lack of conversation from his dinner partner. Margaret was always very civil and polite when she did ask or respond to the odd topic directed her way by any of her dinner companions.

But, Jack’s keen deductive instincts couldn’t help noticing that the lady of the manor was also assessing him as he interacted with Phryne and Henry, who seemed to be his usual, jovial self. At some points, Jack noted a few glances and pointed remarks from Lady Fisher towards her daughter, and the continued, rather cold politeness towards him as though she was wary of his presence. The inspector immediately picked up this considering it was a feeling he was more than familiar with when meeting an initial suspect. Now, he had more than a good dose of how this must feel to be on the receiving end.

This made Jack wonder what Margaret had been like, especially during Phryne and Janey’s childhood when they barely had enough to feed the girls. He pondered whether perhaps it had embarrassed the proud women seated next to him for her sister and brother-in-law to witness how she tried to take care of her family without the resources she had been used to growing up with. That she had had to depend on her family’s good intentions to get by sometimes, especially during the times when Henry had lost what little earnings he mustered on yet another hopeless bet or, worst, another blasted drink. Phryne had barely ever mentioned her mother at all, except for that heartfelt description of an idealistic young woman who had fallen in love as a result of a waltz. A fact that the inspector had put to good use in his romantic campaign to woo aforesaid lady’s own daughter in a similar fashion.

But now that Margaret had gained, not only wealth, but a noble title as well, it seemed that the starry-eyed young woman had disappeared and reverted back to this icy snootiness. Perhaps, it had never left, and she had been too proud back then to admit she made a mistake by letting Henry go as far as he went with his drinking. That even despite his being violent, she continued to defend his behaviour, at the expense of her children’s well-being. Jack knew that this was still a major sticking point for Phryne, and why she still really despised her father in so many ways. Yet, Jack knew that there had to have been something of a rebel in her mother, and that Margaret must not have always liked being told what to do. Perhaps, deep down, she had passed on more than just her external features to her daughter after all.

At that moment, the woman herself rose to her feet, jolting Jack from his reflections as he finished the last of the delicious dessert that he had been savouring slowly whilst lost in thought.

“I trust you enjoyed your dinner, Inspector,” Lady Fisher enquired briefly. “We will leave you men now to your after dinner port, my dear.” She nodded towards the baron before turning to leave, and stopped at the doorway when she realised she was still alone.

“I would like a spot of port myself, thank you,” Phryne stated without moving from her seat. “And maybe even a cigar.” She sent Jack a cheeky grin at that, to which he simply tilted his head at her quip, and her father guffawed as Mr Buxton approached with the customary after-dinner elements.

“Then, I shall be in the Queen Elizabeth Parlour whenever you feel like joining me,” Margaret announced, visibly unhappy at this turn of events, but still leaving according to protocol. Henry simply shrugged and lifted his glass of port in a merry toast as he launched into his latest business scheme idea that his daughter quickly managed to dissuade him from. Eventually, Phryne drained her glass and stretched languidly, prompting one of the footmen to approach and pull her chair out for her so she could rise from the table.

“Well, I think I had better go say goodnight to Mother now or she’ll be pouting at me all day tomorrow,” she informed everyone. “Good night, Father.”

She paused next to Jack’s chair on her way out trailing a gloved finger down his shoulder ever so briefly. “See you for a night cap soon, Inspector. Father or Buxton can show you where the library is.”

Jack managed to respond with a nod just as Henry began to pepper him with questions about the inspector’s thoughts so far about life between Mother England and her colonies. By the time the baron had grown bored of the port, he offered to show Jack to the library, giving him a brief tour of his ancestors’ abode and the odd anecdote about this cousin or that along the way. Jack listened intently with a mixture of both politeness and genuine interest since he realised these people had all contributed in their own way, whether genetically or more, to the extraordinary woman who had captured and would always hold his heart.

“Here’s something to tide you over until my girl can top you up, Inspector,” Henry pressed a tumbler of whisky into Jack’s hand a few short moments after the two men had arrived at their destination.

The baron had immediately headed for a sideboard near the fireplace where a nearly full decanter rested. Jack had remained standing in the middle of the room craning his neck to gape at the floor-to-ceiling shelves that towered over him. There was even an upper gallery filled with more shelves lined with volume upon volume and an array of other interesting objects one might expect to find a house that was nearly 400 years-old. Jack had then been drawn to a nearby collection of books that were housed behind glass doors, and was busy gawking at what must have been first print edition of the Bard’s works when Lord Fisher had appeared by his side with the drink.

After quickly draining his own glass, Henry plunked it down on a nearby side table. “Hope you don’t mind amusing yourself for a little while, Jack. Think I’ll just head on up to bed now myself since I promised the missus an early night. Need to keep on my best behaviour now that we’ve got guests in the house and all.” He winked conspiratorially, reminding Jack every much of his daughter, and the irony was far from lost between them. Henry knew all too well whose side the inspector was on and that he wouldn’t hesitate to set “Fisher the Elder” straight should the man attempt to traipse even a toenail over the line.

The inspector was indeed more than happy to poke about the room, although he left the upper gallery for another day, smiling to himself at the thought of a younger Miss Fisher possibly flying along the shelves using the ladder on wheels. After a while, he wandered back to towards the fireplace with a copy of Lord Byron’s poetry he hadn’t read before, making himself comfortable in a leather wing-backed chair that gave him a clear view of the library’s main door. It wasn’t until the chimes of a grandfather clock rang out from somewhere behind him that Jack rose and languidly stretched his lean frame and checked his wristwatch. Curious considering it had been half an hour now since Henry had departed, which meant Phryne was still catching up with her mother, or might have returned to either of their rooms for a spell. Closing the book and leaving it on the table before him, Jack decided to go and do what he liked best...to investigate.

All was quiet throughout the estate at this hour, but Jack confidently strode down the corridor towards the main staircase that Henry had led them past earlier. The inspector did quickly glance at the various paintings gracing the walls, making mental notes of the ones he would like to return to examine more closely, especially during daylight. No wonder Phryne was such a great lover of art, he mused, as again, he saw a few pieces that spoke of her tastes.

Once he reached the Great Room, Jack continued heading up the stairs at a leisurely pace. He was just about to turn left towards the guest wing as he reached the landing when his instincts alerted him to the unmistakable tension permeating the atmosphere surrounding him. Instantly pausing with his hand on the wooden bannister, Jack glanced towards the right when he heard something. There it was again. Voices, growing very loud. What now? He instantly propelled himself in the opposite direction as his quick mind recalled bit of information that Phryne had included in her brief commentary from earlier when she had brought him to see her suites in the family wing.

He was about halfway through the entrance gallery, when the voices again pierced the evening’s air, this time clearly enough for him to over hear the words. He looked at his surroundings and remembered Miss Fisher’s odd quip about being extra mindful when passing the “queen’s lair.” Jack had simply smiled at her dramatic pronouncement, but didn’t give it much further thought until now as he slowed his approach. Phryne had obviously been referring to her mother’s private parlour that had been named for the infamous ruler of the so-called “Golden Age.”

“Honestly, you could be so much better off, my dear! You really ought to be with someone with a title.”

Jack halted as the angry words and their acidic tone reached him through a partly-opened door just ahead of him. He felt guilty for eavesdropping, but was equally concerned about how Phryne was taking her mother’s onslaught.

“You’re a fine one to talk considering Father would never even have inherited his if it hadn’t been for the war! And, besides, you know nothing about him, Mother. You barely even tried at dinner, and don’t think either of us didn’t notice.”

"You'll end up supporting him! Perhaps, that’s why he’s so interested in you. Don’t think Prudence hasn’t voiced her own concerns. He seems to be spending much more time with you than is proper!”

“How dare you, Mother? I refuse to allow you to speak about the inspector this way. How he spends his time is none of your business! So, if you’ll excuse me now, I will bid you goodnight and return to him since god knows what he’s had to put up with from Father.”

The sound of her heels rapidly echoed down the hall to where Jack still remained frozen in place.

"Fine, but answer me this at the very least. Why did his wife leave him? How were they granted a divorce? Did he beat her?"

The inspector felt his feet moving again at this accusation, but mostly because he dreaded what else might be coming and what the ramifications of it could be for Phryne.

“I refuse to even grace that toxic question with an answer, Mother!”

“Why? Maybe you’re just drawn to men who do. Don’t think I don’t know what happened to you when you fled back here to us from Paris.”

The sound of something heavy (and most likely very old, and thus, costly) shattering suddenly sped up Jack’s movements. At the exact same moment, Phryne darted out of the room running blindly in his direction even though she hadn’t yet noticed him. The inspector quickly closed the gap and threw his arms about her to catch her, startled to see her weeping heavily. Her eyes briefly flung open at the unexpected impact, and she sagged in relief at the sight of him before throwing her arms about him tightly. Clinging to him, she began to tremble and her knees began to buckle from the emotional upheaval that her mother's words had dug up.

Swiftly masking his alarm at her uncharacteristic behaviour, the inspector quickly bent over to pick her up in his arms. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye as Margaret stepped into the hallway. Ignoring the feeling of Lady Fisher’s eyes burning into his back,  Jack deftly turned then, and quickly made his way back in the direction from which he had come holding his precious burden closely against his heart.

 

*-*-*

 

The sudden cry of the tiny carved cuckoo bird springing forth from its wooden nest startled the inspector who had just sprung up from the chaise for the second time in the past ten or so minutes. Jack only gave a cursory look at the Bavarian-styled clock gracing the space above his room’s fireplace mantel since he already knew that it had been nearly 20 minutes since they had returned to his rooms.

After carrying her to the entrance to the guest wing, Phryne had stopped trembling, although her eyes still remained rather moistened with tears. She had wordlessly indicated that she wanted him to release her, to which he had immediately complied. Shrugging off the supporting arm he offered her, she had taken a few steps ahead of him before changing her mind and turning around to grasp his hand instead. They continued that way the remainder of the way until they reached the Sherwood Forest Suite. After he swung open the heavy door, Phryne dropped his hand, and pushed past him to make her way to the adjoining bathroom, closing the door gently behind her without even a glance in his direction.

Apart from the sound of running water indicating she was filling up the bath, Jack had quietly gone about discarding his now tear-stained dinner jacket and donning some blue, silk pajamas that he never recalled selecting during any of their shopping trips. Wanting to be respectful of Phryne’s need for space, Jack had then tried to settle down onto the comfiest chaise with one of his recently-acquired novels, even though his mind and heart were focused on the door in the distance. The cuckoo’s timely interruption, however,  prompted him to creep towards his bathroom door that he tapped on lightly with the tips of his fingers.

“Miss Fisher,” he purposefully schooled his voice into a neutral tone void of his inner anxiety. “Are you all right in there?”

Silence.

“Miss Fisher!” He knocked more loudly this time. “Phryne?”

Still nothing.

Just as he was about to turn the door handle, he heard the sound of water splashing, and tried calling out again, hopefully a bit less frantically.

“Come in, Jack,” her voice sounded muffled, either because the sound of it had to travel through the thick wooden door or because of the extensive weeping she had been succumbing to. He was halfway across the threshold before she had even uttered his name, but slowed at the sight of her. She had managed to shed her beautiful evening gown that was thrown unceremoniously against the sink, but had climbed into the tub still wearing a matching set of extra lacy camisole and camiknickers that he didn’t recognise. His bruised heart felt another deep twinge when he realised she had been wanting to surprise him with them this very evening, obviously in a different mood. Her arms were wrapped around her updrawn knees, and Jack’s heart again wrenched when he realised that she was still holding back tears.

“Oh, Phryne,” his voice embraced her soothingly as he picked up a towel from the neat little pile of what seemed a dozen or so of them on a nearby shelf. He then slowly approached the side of the tub, reaching out a hand to brush against her shoulder, which had grown chilled. “Let me help you out before you catch your death of cold! Something that I refuse to become an accessory to, I might add.”

She tilted her head up towards him, and gave him a glimmer of her usual smile at his half-playful tone. In spite of the stark sadness and vulnerability he could still decipher in her eyes, it was one of the most beautiful expressions of hers that he would always cherish. It was one that he knew she rarely revealed to anyone else, especially her biological family, but even to her adopted one back in Melbourne. He knew that perhaps, only Mac, had ever had the privilege of having witnessed it. It was a gift he would never take for granted.

He tried to show her this as she lifted a hand to grasp his, and allowed him to help her out of the now cold bathwater. He then quickly cocooned her with the towel before wrapping his own arms around the fluffy bundle she made and running his hands up and down to warm her up. Once she stopped shivering, he slowly edged the top layer aside to begin peeling her wet underthings off, leaving a trail of light kisses after the soaked items left her skin. He gradually continued until she was completely free of every last vestige of the damp lingerie before he used the towel to envelope her quickly again to ward off any possible chill. There was time enough later for, well, anything else.

“Jack, I…”

“Tomorrow, Phryne,” he placed a gentle finger against her lips. “Or never. Let’s just go to sleep for tonight.”

As always, he had offered her the solace of being her anchor should she need it without any forced constraints. But, letting her know he would remain solid for her against even the most powerful of currents. It was enough to know that he didn’t seek any explanation unless she wanted to share. It was everything to know that her well-being was, and would always be, his main priority.

“Take me to bed, Jack Robinson,” she agreed in a whisper the haunted look shadowing the flicker of suggestion in her tone.

For the second time that evening, Jack Robinson bent down to lift his partner into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom towards the bedroom. After tucking them inside the voluminous covers, Phryne Fisher fell quickly into a dreamless sleep. She basked in the warmth of his comforting presence and embrace, and surrendered to the surety that her inspector was there to help chase away all lingering shadows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being reassured of Miss Fisher's well-being, Jack agrees to accompany her later that evening to a neighbour's ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fluffy chapter...before the real fun begins!

Blinking against the rogue sunbeam that had managed somehow to find his eyes through a crack in the heavy bed curtains, Jack Robinson craned his head towards the source of light in confusion. His mind automatically informed him of the fact that the curtains in both his guest room and the bed had been closed when he had finally fallen asleep the previous night. Together with an exhausted Miss Fisher.

As though reading his thoughts, he felt a smooth foot slide up his leg in a now welcomed and familiar gesture. He quickly shifted his features into one of his trademark stern expressions before exaggerating a stretch and rolling over onto his side. Opening his eyes, he felt the usual jolt of electricity as he gazed into sparkling blue eyes that always brought a mixture of both relief and desire shooting through his nerve endings. His lips slid into a slight smirk at the sight of his partner’s habitual mischievous and seductive smile.

“Morning, Jack!” She purred at him languidly in a way that never fooled him.

“Miss Fisher...oof!” he replied just as she sprang up and pounced on top of him like the sleek feline she often reminded him of. “I see you slept well.”

He lifted a hand to cup the side of her face now hovering above him.  He traced his thumb just beneath her eye, grateful to see no hint of the haunted expression that had clung to her countenance the evening before. Her eyes conveyed her as yet unspoken gratitude to him for recognising that she had re-emerged from the pain of the memories that her mother’s harsh words had invoked.

“You'll have to thank that unsung hero of mine again,” she arched an eyebrow at him significantly as she unceremoniously began unbuttoning his silky pajama shirt. She then turned her face against his touch, kissing his palm for a lingering moment before lunging forward to plunder his mouth. She then leaned back to survey him with a proprietary grin before discarding his shirt behind her.

“That so, Miss Fisher? Remind me to do so the next time you encounter him.”

“I'm believe I’m about to right now. Repeatedly, as a matter of fact.”

She then allowed her body to take over expressing the full measure of her relief for his presence and what it represented to her, had always meant to her. He in turn gladly offered everything he could to anchor her. To console and pleasure her with his physical body, but also, to comfort and support her with the full breadth of that deep trust that had become a foundation to them both on every other level so early on in their partnership. Together, they both let go in the moment, simultaneously taking from and giving to the other out of the depth of their indescribable connection until they were full to bursting with the wonder and the power of it all.

Still breathing heavily, Phryne collapsed happily against his chest again, wrapping her arms languidly around him as he ran his fingers up and down her spine, leaving tingling sensations behind each caress.

“Umm,” she murmured appreciatively before lifting her face to prop her chin on him so she could look into his eyes. The warmth and lingering passion there thrilled her to no end. “Thank you, Inspector.”

“Well, I can’t really claim any credit, Miss Fisher, considering you, ahem, did all the work,” he teased her.

“Oooh, you insufferable man,” she reached out to pat him affectionately on the cheek. “You know what I meant.”

He simply nodded and wrapped his arms about her gently before giving her an understanding squeeze. Yes, he certainly did understand, tensing slightly as his anger sparked again as he recalled the baroness’ spiteful words, and of his limited knowledge of what Phryne had had to endure at the hands of that bastard. He instantly eased up again as she cupped his face with both of her hands and sat up slightly.

“It’s all in the past, darling. Let’s leave it there,” she reassured him. “And to hell with whatever Mother thinks of it all. It’s none of her bloody business anyway.”

“Will you be all right seeing her today? Or for the duration of our visit?”

“Of course,” she scoffed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Inspector, this happens to be a very large estate.”

“Which I have the feeling I will have the privilege of experiencing in all its fullness.”

“Marvellous idea, Jack!” she bounced up and slid off the bed suddenly. “Oh, I must ring the bell for Lisette immediately.”

“Er…and who might that be?”

“Oh, she’s one of the maids who works on this floor and looks after the cleaning and little odds and ends. In fact, I'll ask her to take care of my things that I left in your bathroom since your valet shouldn’t have to deal with that.” He began to feel slightly dizzy as he tried to follow the rush of her words, and the sight of her fluttering about the spacious suite. She made a beeline for his wardrobe and helped herself to his robe. 

“If you don’t mind, Jack, I think I’ll head back to my room to finish dressing for the day. I simply must take you to see the park and the rest of the grounds! We’ll head to the stables after a quick breakfast since it's best seen on horseback. I must also take you to see my favourite folly. And then...oh, blast it all!”

“Miss Fisher?” Jack had managed to get out of bed himself and paused on his way to the bathroom. He was by her side in seconds where she now stood by the main door to his suite. He reached out to steady her, steeling himself for god knows what. “Why don’t you come sit down, Phryne.”

“Oh, I’m fine, Jack,” she swatted at him lightly. “It’s only that I just remembered that I must attend an important function tonight. With both Mother and Father,” she added with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

“What function? I don't recall you mentioning anything to me previous to this.”

“That's because Mother only just reminded me of it last night. It’s an engagement ball at Barrowby Hall, our nearest neighbouring estate, for the Honourable Catriona MacGowan. She’s the eldest daughter of the Viscount of Cravensworth, and we attended boarding school together…” Phryne trailed off as she took Jack’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “But you don’t need to attend, Jack.”

“Miss Fisher…”

“In fact, I’m sure I can wrangle my way out of it. Only, Mother must have informed them I would be returning in time for it...I haven't even seen Catriona since before the war. But no matter...”

“Phryne!”

When she looked like she was about to continue speaking, Jack leaned down and stopped her with a deep kiss before squeezing her hand in return.

“Would you like me to be there with you tonight, Miss Fisher? At this ball?”

“More than anything,” she responded without hesitation.

He then lifted her hand and placed a chivalrous kiss on it. “Then, consider it done, milady.”

He was rewarded then by one of his favourite dazzling smiles before she suddenly threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Jack quickly glanced around wondering if she had spotted an unwanted visitor of the eight-legged variety.

“I think we’ve plenty of time to continue exploring ‘Sherwood Forest’ here first before we need to ring for Lisette. Don’t you, Sheriff?”

The fact he suddenly scooped her up into his arms and headed back towards the bedroom was exactly the response she needed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Fisher and her inspector attend the ball in their extremely lethal evening wear...

_One, two, three. One, two, three._

Like the memory of his grandmother’s ancient metronome, the beats of the waltz pulsed through Jack’s head, mechanically guiding his steps as he and Phryne whirled about the large ballroom at Barrowby Hall.

_One, two, three. One, two, three. Twirl._

The shimmering and lacey layers from the hem of her stunning (and extremely lethal) ball gown twined with the ends of his fine, black tailcoat as she quickly circled him in time to the orchestra’s rhythms.

_One, two, three. One, two, three. Turn._

She trailed her gloved fingers across his chest briefly before returning them to the correct position just grasping his arm below his shoulder as he led them into a neat turn. She then squeezed his arm meaningfully as her expression grew slightly predatory.

“Hmmm, you seem to be creating quite the stir this evening, Inspector,” she informed him with a few smug glances at the suggestive expressions she’d noted from many of the ladies, and several men, they were twirling past. “Especially amongst the female contingency here.”

Jack couldn’t help smirking at her possessive tone. “Hmph, you are probably correct as per usual, Miss Fisher. But, they are most likely viewing me as some oddity...like an exhibit at a fair.”

“Well, they can look all they like,” she teased him, albeit with a hint of menace as the music slowed and he gently dipped her on the final note, “so long as they don’t touch!”

Jack found her unfounded jealousy endearing (although he valued his life too much to ever admit it to her). She wrapped her arm around his, a tad more tightly than usual, and led him from the dance floor in the direction of the opulently displayed champagne and refreshments. Along the way, they were obliged to stop when passing by Lord and Lady So-and-So or were approached by Miss Your-Gown-is-Marvellous-Darling who was all too eager to meet Miss Fisher’s dashing escort for the evening.

After downing a glass of bubbly, a Mr By-Jove-It’s-Been-Ever-Too-Long came to add his name to Phryne’s dance card to which she was able to oblige despite already filling in Jack’s name in for all of the evening’s waltzes, several fox trots, and certainly the tango. After another yelp of a dance partner who looked like he’d inherited his fortune early had whisked Miss Fisher away for a Charleston (but not before she sent her inspector a mischievous wink), Jack contentedly retreated to a relatively calm space against a decorative marble pillar and settled in to make the acquaintance of a delicious apple tartlette.

He happily watched his partner flitter about the ballroom, more than relieved to see the full return of her customary sparkle throughout the day. As promised, they had indeed explored the large estate and its massive parkland and lakes. Phryne had pointedly avoided any unnecessary encounters with either of the elder Fishers by ensuring that a sumptuous picnic basket accompanied them. He hid the smile that returned at the memory of how much they had both heartily enjoyed the alfresco feast by the water before she had raced Jack via rowing boat (he smiled again at the memory of her splashing her boat away in a fit of laughter after he had discovered that she had deliberately double knotted _his_ boat to the mooring point).

Eventually, he caught up her, and they had happily explored the tiny isle in the middle of the lake that also housed Miss Fisher’s favourite garden folly. All things considered, Jack had to admit to being very impressed by the tiny building that was a perfect replica of a miniature pagoda. After presenting him with the key that was still warm from its nestled hiding space within her decolletage, Phryne had led him inside to the well-maintained structure that actually contained two tiny rooms graced with matching Oriental furniture.

“I used to come out here in the early days after we first moved here,” she had confided in him whilst he had inspected the remarkable little building, “to escape Mother and Father…and my first few governesses.”

“What happened to the rest then? Or did your parents employ some Olympic rowers following the first few, er, failed attempts to impress a proper English lady’s education upon you?”

“Why, they packed me off to boarding school,” she pouted at having been momentarily defeated back then. “But, only for a little while until I ran away to join the ambulance brigade, of course.”

“Of course,” he had responded with a teasing eye roll before she had pulled him eagerly over to the silk-draped chaise and slid onto his lap smoothly as her fingers deftly began stroking his tie.

“Perhaps I should have one built in my garden back home. After all, one never knows when one might feel the need to escape…” he had stopped then barely able to restrain his smirk as she glared at him warningly with twinkle in her eye. “Er, to enjoy an iconic miniature folly of one’s own.”

Phryne pulled the silky material free with a flourish before removing his jumper vest and attacking the buttons of his shirt.

“Why, I think that’s a splendid idea, Jack! You could have your very own Roman forum! Or miniature Globe Theatre...or a Sphinx, perhaps? Our neighbours have a miniature pyramid somewhere on their estate, but that would be too...”she had frowned slightly then causing Jack to sit up and reach a concerned hand to cup her face.

“Maybe a pagoda just like this so you won’t have to miss your favourite retreat so much,” he quickly interjected, sensing the need to turn the subject away from all things related to ancient Egypt.

He had been rewarded by a flurry of kisses before she had then pounced on him in full force…

“Remarkable creature, isn’t she?” An articulated voice deliberately infused with that mixture of bored disdain and undisguised snobbery that was typical of the so-called upper crust broke into the inspector’s sunny reverie. Jack glanced over towards the arrival of his unbidden conversation partner with a quirk of the eyebrow and deceivingly bored expression that usually sent the majority of his constables quaking.

“Oh, do pardon the intrusion, I don’t believe we’ve yet been introduced,” the smooth voice continued arrogantly holding out his hand. “Rupert MacGowan. It’s kind of you to attend my sister’s engagement ball.”

“Jack Robinson,” the inspector replied neutrally, but with an unmistakably stronger grip than usual as he shook the other man’s hand. “And the pleasure is all mine. I wish Miss MacGowan and her betrothed a lifetime of happiness.”

“Indeed, although I do find these things to be a big bore. It’s simply filling our youngest sister, Moira’s head with nonsensical hopes for her own although she’s still altogether too young to come out yet.”

“I see,” Jack responded to be polite, only flashing a hint of a smile when Phryne steered her dance partner enough to dazzle him with one of her full-wattage smiles and another wink. “And how about yourself, Mr MacGowan? I gather you haven’t had to endure your own, er, ball yet?”

“Well, not officially yet,” MacGown informed Jack confidentially, although the inspector knew his tone was intent on being insulting. “One must follow the proper procedures for these things after all. But, our families have had ‘an understanding’ about it for years now.” His eyes strayed again towards Miss Fisher as she once again glided past with her dance partner whose puppy dog eyes would have amused Jack were he not being presently accosted by this rather obnoxious prat.

“Besides, I understand my intended is still just ‘having a bit of fun,’ at the moment,” the arrogant man quipped. “I’m quite content to bide my time...for now. You know how it is, old chap.” He thumped Jack on the shoulder rather more forcefully than his faux genial words entailed.

“Indeed,” Jack responded wishing he land a slug between the conceited man’s smug eyes. Instead, the inspector stated in his deadly calm tone normally reserved for thugs he was about to arrest, “You must excuse me for I believe I have the next dance with Miss Fisher...for the rest of the evening.”

Following another waltz and another round of champagne, Phryne sensed Jack’s slight disquiet.

“You look like you could do with an escape, darling?” She tightened her hand around his elbow in concern. She knew he would rather be anywhere else at that moment, but had chosen to attend and remain at her side for her sake. And she was never more grateful for his constant anchoring presence.

“I could certainly do with a bout of some fresh air, Miss Fisher.”

“As could I. Why don’t we go explore the maze in the garden? It’s one that the MacGowans are more than moderately proud since they claim it was designed by the famous landscape architect, Capability Brown himself.”

“Lead on, Miss Fisher,” he happily agreed as she took his hand and accompanied her out onto the terrace where a lovely array of lanterns and twinkling lights had been set up throughout the trees and lawn. The effect was quite breath-taking as the two wandered silently arm-in-arm through the twilight paradise, more than grateful to leave the congested ball room behind them. Phryne hummed softly to the strains of the orchestra’s next tune as she tucked her head against Jack’s shoulder. Once in awhile, they paused to admire a certain late bloom or to look up at a lovely display of lights on a tree that illuminated the white stones they were ambling down like a snowy pathway. They eventually approached a natural wall of neatly trimmed hedgerows making up the entrance to the leafy maze.

Suddenly, Phryne turned to give her partner and lover an impish grin before sprint offing into the semi-darkness.

“Last one to the centre is a rotten egg, Jack!”

“Not if I can help it, Miss Fisher!”

The two detectives scrambled like children to find the right path leading to the end of the maze, with Miss Fisher occasionally letting out a whoop of triumph when locating an opening or the Inspector muttering a curse upon reaching a dead end. After finding himself in front of another blocked path, Jack caught a glimpse of lantern light reflecting off Phryne’s fascinator and lunged ahead to catch up with her. He expertly skirted a corner of another turning, and ran straight into her. Immediately flinging his arms out wide, the inspector wrapped his arms around Miss Fisher to prevent her from falling over in the wake of his momentum.

“Miss Fff-…” She immediately turned into his arms, pressing a gloved finger to his lips to prevent him from speaking out loud. He instantly stilled before hearing a very feminine squeal and then giggle filtering through the hedges. Evidently, they weren’t the only people who had found the end of the maze.

“But, you promised me you weren’t going to go through with it, you fiend,” a petulant female voice demanded.

“There’s nothing to ‘go through’ yet, my sweet, it’s all just a bunch of talk by the mater and pater,” a familiar, arrogant tone attempted to soothe.

“Oh yes, there, darling. Well, I don’t know what your family sees in her besides her wealth and connections. I _cannot_ believe she had the audacity to come here tonight with her ‘pet policeman’!” The statement caused Phryne to tense. “Although, after seeing him, I can’t blame her at all. Think she’ll let me have him after she’s tired of her plaything?”

“Why would you want to taint yourself, my pet. Now, less talk and more of…” A few moans reached the detectives at that point. Before Jack could react, Miss Fisher had whirled out of his arms, and stormed around the final corner of the maze, nearly tearing her dress as she charged around the remaining manicured corner to confront the speakers.

“Phryne!” Jack’s cry matched that of the surprised voices behind the hedge.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Rupert MacGowan and Annabelle Clairmont. Fancy meeting you two here!” She feigned a surprised look as the two revellers attempted to straighten out their state of deshabille. “Oh, don’t mind me, I’m simply out enjoying a moonlight stroll with...my _fiance_.”

She smirked in triumph at their shocked expressions just as Jack rounded the corner and cautiously approached. Looping her arm possessively around his waist, she began to pull him in the direction from which they had just arrived.

“Come, Inspector, I’m beginning to feel rather tired by all the extra hot air out here.”

“As you wish, Miss Fisher.”

Leaving their astonished audience behind, the two began to amble their way out of the maze, as Jack began to wonder if they weren’t just about to enter another one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the ball, Jack gets to use his finely-honed stakeout skills when the Fishers have an unexpected visitor...

The inspector opened the glass door delicately after not being able to resist the desire to examine the priceless volumes ensconced inside the antique book case. He was in the upper gallery of Clarington Court’s library when he heard the butler’s voice speaking to someone followed by another set of footsteps approaching from the direction of the Great Hall. Whoever the visitor was, Buxton was evidently ushering them towards the library. Closing the case’s door regrettably, Jack realised that he wouldn’t have enough time to descend to the library’s lower level and vacate the large room before they arrived. So, he simply remained where he was.

 

After a rather stilted breakfast earlier that morning due to the unavoidable and stony presence of Lady Margaret, Phryne had reluctantly left with her parents to attend a business meeting with the family’s solicitors.

 

“I’m so sorry, darling,” she had told him in frustration as she ran her fingers up and down the lapels of his freshly pressed suit jacket just before they had all departed. Not comfortable with the thought of having another man dress him, Jack had foregone the household’s valet services. At the crestfallen expression that Richards had given him when the eager young man had showed up, ready to apply himself to this temporary new role, Jack had agreed to allow the lad to press his clothing and lay them out ahead of time each morning and before dinner. This morning’s choice had apparently pleased Miss Fisher since she couldn’t seem to stop fiddling with his attire a tad more than usual, which obviously suited Jack just fine.

 

“But, they’ve already had to reschedule the meeting due to my being away...to meet up with you.” They both paused then as their eyes met and mingled in the memories of their recent reunion and adventures of solving an international case in the Buckinghamshire countryside. “You really don’t mind, do you?”

 

“What did I once tell you about being remorseful?” His tone and expression were serious, but she knew all too well how his nearly imperceptible head tilt and the twinkle in his eyes belied his amusement as well. “Besides, you know I am more than capable of amusing myself and being on my own, Miss Fisher.”

 

“Of course, Jack! I just feel dreadful about abandoning you here on your own due to my having to help Mother and Father sort out their affairs.”

 

“I shall be more than delighted to make the acquaintance of several books in your family’s most impressive library, Miss Fisher. I won’t even realise you’ve been gone,” he had reassured her, trying not to grin at her petulant pout over his statement.

 

“But, as I undoubtedly will be pining for your swift return,” he suddenly cupped her head and leaned in for a deep kiss. “I’ll now have  _ that _ to reminisce upon until we can resume.” Seeing her satisfied expression, Jack slowly let go and waited for her to sashay out the front door before turning to return to his contented exploration of the library until the family’s return.

 

Wondering how they were getting on, Jack glanced down at his wristwatch to note that Phryne had been gone for nearly an hour before peering over the edge. He glanced up again at the sound of the butler’s voice ushering in the unexpected visitor, and was more than surprised to see Rupert MacGowan, of all people, enter the room below. The inspector quickly ducked back behind a row of shelves wondering why the obnoxious man was there. Unaware of that he wasn’t alone, MacGowan  walked over to the sideboard and was helping himself to a drink when several more voices echoed from the Great Hall.

Jack smiled to himself as he easily picked out Miss Fisher’s distinct tones. Even from this distance, the inspector could tell she was evidently not too happy at the news of their unexpected guest. The ensuing muffled tone of her mother’s voice still transmitted the baroness’ displeasure at what must have been her daughter’s attempt to try escaping from the niceties of greeting their visitor. The sound of the library’s grandfather clock drowned out their approach so the inspector contented himself to wait patiently until they appeared.

 

“Lord and Lady Fisher,” Buxton announced imperiously with a noticeable pause. Eventually, Miss Fisher trailed in after her parents. “And The Honourable Phryne Fisher.” He then gestured towards the centre of the room. “Your guest, The Honourable Rupert MacGowan, awaits you, my lord and my lady. And Miss Fisher.”

 

Jack stepped forward slightly and again peeked over the railing when he saw Phryne lift her head expectantly after surreptitiously scanning the lower level. Acknowledging her slight smile of recognition, he quickly stepped back behind the upper gallery’s row of corner book shelves. He was caught between not wanting to eavesdrop, but also not willing to announce his presence before this particular audience. Perhaps, he could get away with hiding himself until the others had left.

 

“Why, Rupert, lovely for you to join us in time for morning tea,” Margaret greeted him warmly as the younger man made a show of kissing her proffered hand. “Please have a seat. Mr Buxton, you may tell Cook that we are having our tea in the library now.” The servant bowed in acknowledgement and disappeared to do his lady’s bidding.

 

“Rupert,” Henry greeted him simply with a nod before ignoring his wife’s instructions and heading towards the decanter. “I see you’ve already helped yourself to the good stuff, my lad.” He then clinked his glass with their neighbour’s son before seating himself next to his wife.

 

“Hello, Rupert,” Phryne remained where she was standing after entering the room. “And, how is Annabelle faring this morning?” The lady detective made a great show of glancing about the room and back out into the hallway as though looking for someone, completely ignoring her mother’s pointed stare.

 

“I wouldn’t know, Miss Fisher,” the so-called gentleman deflected her question smoothly as he settled himself into one of the leather wingback chairs. He redirected his solicitous attention towards the couple across from him. “Thank you so much again for attending the ball last night, Lord Henry and Lady Margaret. It has meant a great deal to Mother and Father, and Catriona, of course, that you could celebrate this momentous occasion in our family.”

 

“But, of course, Rupert, it has been our honour to do so,” the baroness replied. “Now what brings you here today? I’m sure it wasn’t just to thank us for attending your sister’s engagement ball.”

 

“Actually, I was also hoping to have a moment of your daughter’s time...” Jack tried not to smirk as he imagined Phryne rolling her eyes. “In  _ private _ ,” the other man added in a tone that was not lost on anybody. Except for the baron, perhaps.

 

“Oh, why, of course! In fact, why don’t you do that now?” Margaret exclaimed happily. “I’ll just go let Buxton know to prepare tea for us in the family parlour instead. Take your time and come meet us there when you’re ready, darling,” she directed towards Phryne. “Come, Henry, let’s give the young people some privacy.” 

 

Her ladyship rose from her seat elegantly before hustling her bewildered husband to his feet and then to the door. She paused to give her daughter, who was still standing, a beseeching look before pushing Henry out into the hallway and closing it shut behind her. At the sound, the inspector quickly glanced over the gallery’s railing in time to see Miss Fisher toss her hair before glancing up and tilting her head into a tiny nod when their eyes met briefly. She then crossed her arms and moved into the centre of the room, positioning herself so that only she could see the upper gallery. Paying heed to Phryne’s signal and the suddenly portending storm clouds in the room, Jack silently crept towards the top of the spiral staircase and began to slowly make his way downward. 

Rupert had discarded his drink on the side table and had also risen to his feet after Lady and Lord Fisher had made their hasty departure. He slowly approached their daughter who still remained utterly silent despite the fact her eyes were spitting daggers at him. The idiot was either too arrogant to care or too foolish to recognise the dangerous zone he was nearing.  _ Probably both _ , Jack thought, as he reached the ground level and slipped behind another bookcase where he could still see the two other figures clearly.

 

“Phryne, you must know why I’m here, darling,” MacGowan attempted to ooze charm, which obviously worked on his usual less discerning audience such as Margaret or Annabelle. He foolishly attempted to reach out to take one of her hands, failing when she sidestepped him swiftly and made her way towards the sideboard.

 

“You don’t have permission to address me that intimately, Rupert,” she informed him as she filled a crystal tumbler and then whirled about to face him again. Downing its contents all at once, she continued to glare at him as though he had the plague. “As for the reason you’re here, I will save you the time and trouble. My answer is there’s no bloody way on god’s green earth or in the devil’s frozen hell that I’d marry you!”

 

Calling on all his years of stakeout training, Jack had to fight not to guffaw out loud at the expression on the other man’s face. Honestly, it was nearly enough to make him feel sorry for the chap. Nearly, but not quite _. _

 

“Look, Phryne, I’ve been more than patient with you. I’ve waited for you to have your fun, and I’ve had mine,” he told her condescendingly, completely oblivious to the nails he was driving into his coffin. “Now that Cat’s off the marriage mart, the mater and pater have become much more insistent that I cast my intentions that way, as I’m sure yours have been as well.”

 

_ Skip the coffin, prepare for instant and complete incineration _ , Jack couldn’t help thinking from his hiding place, as he watched the flames brewing behind his beloved’s eyes.

 

Perhaps mistaking her ongoing silence as acceptance of his ramblings, Rupert suddenly went down on one knee. He then fumbled briefly with his jacket pocket to produce an ornate little box that he presented with a smile that was probably meant to be adoring. The glare from the massive and no doubt, costly gem nearly blinded Jack as he continued to watch the farce play out before him.

 

“Thus, with no further ado, say you’ll marry me, darling!”

 

Jack jumped slightly at the sound of glass shattering when Miss Fisher dropped her glass to the floor. But, he remained rooted in place as she raised her eyes in disbelief towards her partner and rolled them in disgust before returning her fiery stare back onto the foolish man before her.

 

“You must be deaf, Rupert. What part of ‘no bloody way’ do you not comprehend?”

 

The idiot leaped to his feet, grabbing her hands earnestly. “Now, Phryne, you know you don’t mean that. Besides, you must also know our families have had this understanding for years now!” 

 

_ Now that’s the height of romantic declarations _ , Jack rolled his eyes. _ Bloody hell, even Collins is leagues above this fool! _

 

His attention immediately returned to the centre of the room at the sound of a groan after Miss Fisher had decided that actions might convey her response more accurately than words. MacGowan was again on his knees, only this time, he was doubled over clutching his manly parts in what looked to be excruciating pain.

 

“And you must know, Rupert, that a gentleman never forces his affections, and especially kisses, upon a lady when they are not at all wanted or welcomed.”

 

“And you are deluding yourself,” MacGowan managed to rasp out through his gritted teeth, “if you think that pathetic policeman wants you for anything other than your money!”

 

Jack didn’t need a further cue to rush towards them when he saw Miss Fisher pick up a vase from a nearby shelf. 

 

“Phryne, no!” She paused with the vase held in mid-air, rather reluctantly. 

 

“And I’m sorry you are under such ridiculous illusions, Mr MacGowan,” the inspector  informed the other man calmly as though he had been part of the conversation the entire time. “But, you are utterly mistaken. Isn’t he, Miss Fisher?” He held out a hand towards her, and she reluctantly handed him the vase just as a loud commotion erupted from the library’s doorway.

 

“Phryne? What is the meaning of this?” Margaret instantly demanded as her eyes flitted from Rupert on his knees in agony to her daughter passing the inspector a vase. She then moved her infuriated glare towards her husband who quickly wiped his amused smirk off his face with a tiny shrug.

 

Rupert lumbered to his feet, pointing his finger accusingly towards Jack. “It’s rather simple, Lady Margaret. This commoner has influenced your daughter somehow to marry  _ him _ instead of someone proper like me. But, we all know he just wants to get his gold digging hands out of her knickers and into her purse....” He head staggered back from the magnitude of Phryne’s slap.

 

“Phryne!” Several voices shouted out at once as Jack moved to take her into his arms, mostly to prevent a murder from happening before their very eyes.

 

“It’s true, he’s nothing but a thief, despite being a so-called inspector,” the other man continued with a sneer. “Check his pockets yourself if you don’t believe me!”

 

“What are you going on about, man?” Henry had had enough by now and began making his way towards the others. It was one thing to look the other way whilst his wife attempted to scheme over their daughter’s marital future. It was quite another to allow this prat to go threatening an officer of the law right beneath his very roof, no matter whether he had jurisdiction here or not. Besides, Henry liked the inspector’s gumption even if he was a copper, and the fact his girl was happy with him was good enough reason for her father.

 

Before anyone could say another word, Rupert reached dramatically into Jack’s outer suit pocket and withdrew an expensive-looking brooch encrusted with diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows of the room.

 

“Why, that’s mine!” Margaret instantly cried out in disbelief. “It’s been missing ever since...since you arrived!” 

 

“Check his other one!” Rupert challenged Henry with a smarmy glint in his eye. 

 

“Sorry, Jack,” Henry lifted up his hands in apology and fished about in the inspector’s other pocket. The baron removed his hand to display a matching set of diamond earrings.

 

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Phryne seethed crossing her arms and fumed towards Rupert. “ _ Someone  _ evidently planted those!”

 

“You thief!” Margaret turned her angry gaze onto Jack accusingly. “And after we allowed you to come into our home…”

 

“Mother! Stop!” Phryne countered her mother’s attack against the inspector by grabbing onto her arm.

 

“Buxton, telephone for the Chief Constable!” Rupert ordered the speechless butler who had remained by the entrance, worry etched into his features. He handed the brooch over to Henry who remained speechless at the sudden turn of events.

 

“Now, hold on, there’s obviously an explanation to this. No reason to involve the police,” Henry followed the younger man who had begun to advance towards the unmoving butler.

 

The only person who remained silent and calm was Inspector Robinson who knew that he had been framed (and shabbily at that), and that the so-called evidence was completely circumstantial. Ignoring the men who were still arguing over whether or not to telephone the police, Jack returned his attention to the only person in the room whose opinion mattered to him. 

 

Just in time to hear her cry out.

 

“Oh, for the love of god, Mother! Not now!”

 

The inspector stepped over just in time to catch the older woman in his arms before she collapsed to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone at Clarington Court reacts to the unexpected mystery just as the local police arrive...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Phrack’s adventures at the Fishers’ country estate continue...thanks so much again for all of your wonderful comments! More to come soon!

The entire room experienced another burst of pandemonium, which Jack ignored as he carried the slight figure of the baroness over to the settee. Phryne quickly helped him to settle her against the silk cushions, glancing over towards the doorway and the momentarily silenced group of men who had heard her cry.

“Buxton, please ask Cook to send that tea here as soon as possible,” she took charge swiftly. “Father, please send for Lisette.” Her father and butler hastened off to carry out her orders. 

“Rupert, I think it would be best if you left now,” she requested, not bothering to restrain the edge of anger from her tone. Unfortunately, the insufferable oaf wasn’t as easily compliant.

“What? And leave you behind with this common criminal? I think not!” Then, contrary to his words, he too disappeared out of the door with a huff. The two detectives simply looked towards the other and rolled their eyes as they focused on reviving Margaret. 

By now, Jack had retrieved a glass of brandy and was waiting for Phryne to coax her mother back to consciousness before attempting to offer any to the older lady. Miss Fisher was waving about some mints and few other dubious items that she had discovered in the drawers of the side board. 

“Now I know why Aunt Prudence still insists on carrying about those old-fashioned smelling salts,” she muttered more to herself in frustration. “Honestly, Mother, wake up!” She patted her mother’s cheeks gently, yet firmly, but the lady did not even stir.

Just then, Buxton returned with a heavily-laden tea trolley, and a frantic Lisette carrying a little basket that she clutched to her chest tightly as she rushed over towards her mistress. Henry followed the duo and also made his way over towards his wife and daughter.

“Oh, miss, I have just zee thing to help my lady,” her slight French accent becoming more noticeable with her worry. She opened the basket and produced an amber vial with a light-coloured liquid inside that she passed to Miss Fisher. “Eet ees a special oil zat will help Lady Feesher. My grandmere taught me how to make this and many other types for different ailments.”

Phryne had pried open the lid and waved it under her own nose before presenting it to Jack who also took a deep whiff.

“I detect lavender and a hint of rosemary. And peppermint?” he commented whilst watching Miss Fisher wave the vial beneath her mother’s nose. The baroness immediately sniffed loudly and blinked a few times.

“Zat ees correct, Inspector,” Lisette smiled appreciatively. “You are an expert in botany and aromatherapy too, I see?”

“He is an expert in a great many areas,” Phryne declared flashing him a dazzling grin. She then passed the vial back to the maid as Margaret opened her eyes suddenly. 

“My dear!” Henry called out with relief whilst squeezing his wife’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Welcome back, Mother. Do you think you’re able to sit up?”

At her tentative nod, Phryne and her father assisted Margaret into a sitting position before Jack presented the tumblr to her. The older lady flicked her eyes towards him with another nod, this one more tersely, before she lifted her hand to accept his offering rather stiffly. 

“Thank you, Inspector,” she sniffed politely, taking a tiny sip as her husband nodded approvingly, albeit with a slight crease in his brow at her obviously icy attitude towards Jack.

“Think I could do with another myself,” Henry stood up, but instead of walking immediately to the tea trolley, he made eye contact with his daughter and the inspector and tilted his head towards his desk on the other side of the room. The two detectives locked eyes and silently agreed to see what the baron was up to.

“Lisette, why don’t you fill a plate of sandwiches and cakes for Lady Margaret please?”

As the maid hurried to do Miss Fisher’s bidding, the others ambled to the tea trolley after her, waiting for Buxton to pour them all a fresh cup of the steeped leaves and for the inspector to fill up a plate. Henry then led the way over to the massive mahogany desk near the fireplace at the end of the room.

“What is it, Father? What’s going on?”

“I’m not entirely certain, my girl, which is why I wanted to have a quick word with the two of you over this dodgy business.”

“Were you aware that your wife’s jewels had gone missing, Lord Fisher?” Jack stopped munching long enough to enquire.

“No, I swear, she never mentioned a thing to me!” The two detectives scrutinised his worried features before looking at one another and nodding simultaneously in agreement. They could both instinctively tell that the old scoundrel was telling the truth, for once.

“It’s obvious that Rupert is part of whatever game is afoot,” Phryne grounded out the fool’s name. “One that we shall definitely be getting to the bottom of!”

“I hope so, my dear,” Henry agreed quickly. “You know how nervous I become around this sort of thing.”

“Oh, Father, this isn’t about you! It’s about poor Jack being framed!”

“Of course, of course,” her father patted her hand. “Which is why I know you’ll do your best to look into the matter as quickly as possible, won’t you, my girl? And, Inspector?”

“Oh, we’ll figure out how he knew about Mother’s jewels all right,” Phryne muttered in a threatening tone. “Especially if he wants to preserve his ‘family’s jewels.’”

Before Jack could respond, they were interrupted by a footman who had appeared at the library’s entrance. He announced a new visitor who entered wearing a very sombre expression that matched his well-worn uniform.

“Chief Constable Ollington to see you, my lord and my lady.”

“Blast it all,” Henry exclaimed as Phryne instinctively reached out to grasp Jack’s hand. The inspector automatically wrapped his larger one around hers, although he was slightly surprised by her openly public action. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure him that everything would be fine in spite of the ridiculous allegations with regards to the baroness’ so-called missing jewels. Or whether or not she was holding onto him because she needed him to anchor her and remind her that all was indeed well. At the crux of it all, Jack realised that it didn’t really matter since being so tangibly connected amounted to both possibilities essentially. He knew now that their intermingled connection had always been a sometimes indescribable reflection of their ability to both give and seek reassurance. He tried to tell her this with a reassuring squeeze with his hand that she instantly returned. 

“Indeed, Lord Fisher,” the senior police officer responded as he entered the room, holding his helmet beneath one arm. “It’s a terrible business. I’m very loathe to interrupt you and your family over it all, but needs must.”

“Well, you certainly can’t be faulted for slow service, Chief Constable,” Henry shook his head in mystified wonder. “Would you like to at least join us for some tea before continuing?”

“Thank you, but no, my lord,” Ollington replied. “I think it best if I carry on with my duties now as quickly as possible.”

Phryne stepped forward suddenly, and was about to open her mouth to speak. Realising her intentions, Jack tightened his hold and gave her a nearly unnoticeable shake of the head. She narrowed her eyes back at him, but understood his request to not make a major scene.

“But, surely you cannot believe such an allegation without proper evidence, Chief Constable?” She asked in a deceptively calm manner, letting go of her partner to cross her arms in exasperation. “This is utterly insane!”

“I’m afraid the evidence speaks for itself, Miss Fisher,” the policeman stated simply. “And that I’ll have to ask you all some routine questions now, if I may?”

“Questions? I suggest you arrest the culprit first, Chief Constable!” Rupert pronounced with a sneer towards Jack as he sauntered back into the room with a smug expression revealing the truth of his arrogant features.

“I thought I asked you to leave,” Phryne glared at him. “This has nothing to do with you!”

“Phryne!” Margaret spoke out for the first time.

“That’s it, we are leaving Clarington Court, Jack,” the lady detective vowed emphatically, tugging on his elbow. “Immediately!”

“We could. But, why don’t we wait a moment to listen to what Chief Constable Ollington has to say,” her partner advised.

“Thank you, er, sir” the other policeman paused, realising he didn’t recognise the first sensible voice of reason since he had first arrived.

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, Victorian Police, Melbourne” Jack held out his hand and shook his fellow law enforcement officer’s hand heartily. “As you can see, my usual jurisdiction is currently very far away. What can we do for you, Chief Constable?”

“Thank you, Inspector,” the chief constable responded, genuinely relieved to have a counterpart in the room, even if this wasn’t his usual patch. “Pleased to have you present.” His eyes veered towards Rupert who made an impatient gesture for the officer to continue.

“I’m here with regards to the disturbing news report that we received from your neighbour, I’m afraid.”

This time, all eyes were on Rupert now who continued to flaunt his superior smirk. Jack squeezed Phryne’s hand still clutching his arm, stroking his thumb along the back of it when he felt her begin to clench her fingers. She flashed him a fierce look, but did relax her hand slightly. The inspector then quickly glanced towards Henry who looked like he, too, wanted nothing more than to take a swing at the impertinent upstart. At the sound of a throat clearing rather loudly, everyone in the room swung their gazes back to the chief constable expectantly.

“I need to ask you all some questions about the report we received this morning,” Chief Constable Ollington swept his eyes about the room. “We would like to find out any more details surrounding the disappearance of 14 year-old Moira MacGowan of Barrowby Hall.”

Collective curses and gasps rang out from the chief constable’s disbelieving audience.

“She has apparently been taken forcibly from her family’s estate by an unknown perpetrator sometime last night.”

The only sound that pierced the resulting stunned silence in the room was that of Lady Margaret’s glass tumbler shattering to the floor as she once again lost all consciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens...to nearly as much as Rupert's arrogance. But thankfully, Phryne and Jack can always hold their own against insufferable and snobby boors.

“Perhaps, we should reconvene elsewhere, Miss Fisher?” Jack tilted his head meaningfully towards the busy tableau once again fussing over her mother. The partners then both glanced towards an extremely pale and still silent Rupert who had slumped onto the arm of a nearby chair with a hand covering half his face.

 

“Yes, perhaps it would be more ideal to continue this conversation in a calmer locale,” the lady detective agreed readily.

 

“I would appreciate that,” the other policeman agreed in a relieved tone, again grateful for the inspector’s presence. “Perhaps, I could brief you on what I know first, Miss Fisher? And, Inspector? Whilst everyone else, erm, becomes available?”

 

“Of course, Chief Constable,” Phryne immediately responded. She noted that Lisette and her father were doing a fine job of reviving Margaret with the amber vial as Buxton went to prepare his mistress a fresh cup of tea. Still holding onto Jack’s hand, Phryne tugged him towards the door. “Let’s go to the family parlour.”

 

“Wait, I’m coming with you!” Rupert seemed to revive himself when he saw them beginning to depart the room. 

 

Jack again brushed his fingers across Phryne’s hand and arched an eyebrow in wordless entreaty. She pursed her mouth into a slight moue of impatience before rolling her eyes in acquiescence. After all, despite how much she might loathe the man, he had just received dreadful news about his youngest sister going missing. Phryne, of all people, wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, even a smug weasel like MacGowan. She shot a piercing glare towards Rupert to indicate that his allegations against her inspector were most certainly not forgiven, and even least likelier to ever be forgotten, but managed a slight nod from the doorway. Jack was right, it was time to focus on a missing young woman who might need their help. At Phryne’s curt nod, Rupert jumped to his feet and fell into place next to Chief Constable Ollington as they followed the detectives down the corridor. Miss Fisher continued at a brisk pace until they arrived at the room Jack recognised from the other evening when he first met Margaret Fisher.

 

“Please, take a seat, everyone,” Phryne gestured towards the collection of settees facing each other in a cozy corner of the room angled off behind the white grand piano. As the others turned towards that direction, she made her way towards an aquamarine one graced with round cushions and gold tassels. Jack followed, but opted to lean against the mantelpiece behind her as Rupert dropped into the chaise longue adjacent to Phryne. Chief Constable Ollington took the purple velvet settee directly across from Miss Fisher before launching into the facts as he was aware of them:

 

Approximately at 10 o’clock that morning, the Honourable Moira MacGowan, age 14, and youngest child of the Viscount and Viscountess Cravensworth of Barrowby Hall, was reported missing. The lady’s maid who served her and her sister, a Miss Ruby Martin, had been given the night off  along with the majority of the household’s staff in honour of Miss Catriona’s engagement celebration. Therefore, Miss Martin had arrived at her usual hour to draw open Miss MacGowan’s curtains and bring the girl her customary morning cup of hot chocolate before assisting her to prepare for the day. 

 

“Were you able to establish what time this would have been, Chief Constable?,” Jack couldn’t help interrupting the policeman’s narrative to enquire.

 

The older man quickly consulted his notebook. “Yes, Miss Martin stated that she had started making Miss MacGowan’s morning beverage a little later than usual this morning due to most of the household retiring a lot later following the ball. So, she said she arrived at Miss MacGowan’s room shortly before 9 o’clock.”

 

That was when the maid noticed immediately that Moira’s bed was still turned down, yet had not been slept in. She had then quickly checked the dressing table, the dressing room, as well as under the bed, but there were none of the usual signs that the youngest daughter of the house had returned to her room at all. 

 

“Was it possible that she had returned at some point, but might have slipped out again?” Miss Fisher asked this time.

 

Chief Constable Ollington confirmed that he had asked the same question and after speaking to the present family members and several more of the in-house staff members, he was led to believe it unlikely. "Even Lady Cravensworth and Miss Catriona MacGowan have attested to the fact that Miss Moira is far from tidy with her things. There was no trace of any of the items she had worn to the ball anywhere in her room or the rest of the house.”

 

“It’s true, she’s always been the whirlwind in the family,” her brother had muttered in agreement then. “She never fails to leave a trail of her presence.”

 

Ruby Martin had then immediately rushed to check on Miss Catriona, and was relieved to find that the elder sister was still sound asleep in her bedroom, having only just made it back to her room around dawn after her successful ball. Loathe to wake the slumbering girl, Miss Martin had then rushed back downstairs to inform Mrs Locksmith, the MacGowan’s housekeeper, who immediately notified the butler. After failing to locate Mr Rupert who was absent from his suite, one of the footmen was dispatched to go in search of his lordship who had gone out for his daily morning stroll with his dogs.

 

Once Lord Cravensworth was notified and had rushed back to the house, the viscount himself had then telephoned the station in Chard to report that his youngest daughter was missing. Chief Constable Ollington immediately journeyed to Barrowby Hall with two of his men. After a preliminary search of the house and a several more interviews with other staff and overnight guests, the senior officer had telephoned his station to call for all available assistance. Eventually, his men accompanied all able-bodied staff from the household to canvass the extensive grounds. 

 

Rupert suddenly punched a fisted hand into the other and jumped up in visible aggravation. “Damn it all, I should have been there to help search,” he began to pace about that side of the room, running his hands through his hair. “I should have paid more attention to her whereabouts last night!”

 

Phryne tilted her head back when she felt Jack’s touch to her shoulder and nodded at his unspoken suggestion. She returned her gaze towards the agitated figure now circling the piano.

 

“Rupert, do try to calm down. You’ll be able to do more for Moira by hearing the rest of the facts concerning her disappearance. You must stay clear-headed so we can figure out how to get her back.”

 

He didn’t respond other than to stop pacing before turning and returning to his previous seat with a resigned look on his ashen face. 

 

The chief constable continued to inform the group that after a customary search of the estate and the grounds, the elderly head gardener, a Mr Walter Brown, had discovered one of Moira’s shoes under some shrubbery near the outdoor fountain. Shortly thereafter, one of the constables had also returned with a torn piece of fabric that both Lady Cravensworth, Miss Catriona MacGowan, and Miss Martin had positively identified as part of the skirt from Moira’s ball gown. He had found it snagged in some of the hedges within their family’s maze.

 

A knock on the parlour’s door stole the room’s attention as Buxton and Henry appeared with a newcomer wearing a constable’s uniform following behind.

 

“Chief Constable Ollington, sir,” the young man immediately greeted his superior officer. “I was told to find you immediately.”

 

“What is it, Davies?” the other policeman was immediately on his feet.

 

“Lord Cravensworth asked me to come inform you that the family just received an anonymous letter delivered with the later morning post. He has requested that you return to Barrowby Hall immediately to assess it.”

 

“Has he opened it? Does he know what it says?” Rupert instantly demanded. 

 

“No, sir, he has instructed that no one go near it until the chief can be present,” the young constable informed him.

 

“That’s very wise,” Inspector Robinson commented out loud as Miss Fisher emphatically nodded. “Perhaps, you could telephone your neighbours, Miss Fisher, to notify them that Chief Constable Ollington is on his way. And to reiterate that no one should touch the letter.”

 

“Excellent idea, Inspector,” she nodded and rose to her feet just as her father spoke up.

 

“I’ve actually just spoken to Alistair directly, my dear,” Henry informed his daughter. “Had to let him know that we are willing to do all we can here at Clarington Court to support their family to...recover his little girl after all.” 

 

The baron’s voice barely faltered as his usual bravado resumed, but both his daughter and her inspector noticed. And both of them could more than understand the reason behind the slip in his usually carefree facade. Based on his own brief encounters with Henry and Margaret Fisher, Jack now had more than just a hunch as to why Phryne had never had the support she needed to deal with her sister’s disappearance. 

 

“So, I told him I’d find out if you would be willing to assist Ollington here with the investigation, Phryne. You and Jack, of course. I told him that as far as criminal investigations go, you two are a force to be reckoned with when it comes to matters like these.”

 

Before Phryne could respond to this uncustomary side of her father’s, Chief Constable Ollington immediately responded.

 

“I know it’s not conventional, but I, for one, would greatly welcome any insight and assistance that you felt induced to offer my men and I on this case, Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson. Especially as it also turns out, quite a few of the overnight guests have also reported missing valuables such as jewels and the like that have disappeared from their rooms. We don’t often encounter such incidents like this out here, not to this scale anyway.”

 

Jack gave a tiny nod before tilting his head towards Rupert who had just halted his distressed pacing at the turn of the conversation. The two men faced off in a silent battle as the inspector waited to see if the aristocrat would again take up the ridiculous allegations of theft against him. All too familiar with the heated tension surrounding any type of duel, Henry also stepped towards the two men still frozen in their stand-off. The baron narrowed his eyes slightly in warning at Cravensworth’s son when the younger man’s gaze flitted to Lord Fisher and then back again to the inspector. Both maintained his staunch expressions, and just as the strained atmosphere reached a bubbling point, Rupert deflated visibly before hunching his shoulders and turned away reluctantly.  MacGowan knew that if Lord Fisher wasn’t willing to press charges against the Australian interloper, then Rupert’s own claims had no legs to stand on.

 

“Thank you for your recommendation to Lord Cravensworth, Father,” Phryne was quick to interject after observing the scene, ready to jump in if Rupert dared to do or say anything rash again. “And for your willingness to include us, Chief Constable. The inspector and I are available, of course, to do anything we can to find out what happened to Moira, and most importantly, to bring her safely back home.”

 

“Then, what the bloody hell are we still waiting for?” Rupert spat out in annoyance. “Father needs Ollington to come read this damn letter!”

 

“Mr MacGowan, we completely understand your desire to return immediately to your family at this time,” Jack interjected in an understanding, yet no less authoritative tone. “However, despite the need for speed, we also need a careful plan of action before proceeding.”

 

“He’s absolutely right, Mr MacGowan,” the chief constable confirmed. “The kidnapper was someone who took advantage of the ball in order to abduct your sister. This indicates that he or she was obviously someone who was close enough to your family in order to be present last night.”

 

“Why would anyone want to hurt Moira? Why aren’t you out there looking for them?” 

 

“Rupert, whoever took Moira obviously has a strong vendetta against your family for doing so,” Phryne responded slowly as though she were speaking to a child. “Especially if they took the trouble of sending what sounds like a ransom letter. If we act rashly, then we could end up angering the kidnapper and, thus, endangering her.”

 

“There is also the possibility that the perpetrator is watching and listening closely to your family’s and the other guests reactions,” Jack added as the other two policemen nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, there is currently still an extremely large pool from which to narrow down the suspects.” 

 

“And how are you going to do that?” Rupert scrunched his usually arrogant features up in a deep frown. “Mother invited half the bloody kingdom, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

 

“You can leave those on the upper crust list to me,” Phryne waved a hand dismissively.

 

“Fine, but what about the rest? You  _ do _ realise that all of the staff, including some of yours, and our local farmer’s tenants were also invited.”

 

“That’s where an unfamiliar face in these parts comes in handy rather splendidly,” Miss Fisher continued mysteriously as she looped her hand through the arm of the owner of the aforementioned (extremely handsome) face.

 

“What, you mean  _ him _ ?” Rupert scoffed as he crossed his arms in a huff.

 

“Why yes, Rupert,” Phryne fought to hold back from delivering the aggravating fool another swift kick. She turned towards her partner and quickly slid her hand affectionately down one of his lapels. “Everyone, meet, Mr Archibald Jones.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archie Jones begins his investigations at Barrowby Hall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay due to an onslaught of rather horrible experiences to recover from (including a horrible [hate-induced attack](https://bokchoynomad.wordpress.com/2017/07/20/where-indifference-has-no-home/) on my family and a very debilitating stomach bug). Thus, writing this chapter has really helped me to cope with it all. 
> 
> Thank you for all of your lovely comments, and special thanks to @comeaftermejackrobinson for her ongoing encouragement and editorial prowess for her own birthday fic!

The wind had begun to pick up, slapping a few loose leaves and twigs against the crouching form digging around some dirt with a spade. Brushing aside some of the debris from his sleeve, the gardener placed his tool down on the ground, stretched his back, and sat back for a little rest. Deciding it was good a time as any for a little break, he paused in his current endeavours, rose to his feet and starting to head back to his cottage on the grounds for a spot of tea.

 

It had been a few hours since his later than usual luncheon considering he had to wait with the others until after the family and their guests had been served and satisfied first. Although he was a newcomer, it wasn’t too difficult for him to employ his talent for blending into the background and observe those around him. He recalled how the mood in the servant’s dining room had halted at the appearance of Lord Cravensworth who had apologised for disturbing their meal.

 

In deference to the household’s turmoil over the disappearance of his youngest daughter, his lordship wanted to publicly voice his gratitude for everyone’s cooperation all day with the police and their investigation. He also wanted to acknowledge Mr Brown’s significant act of valour in locating one of the key clues and pieces of evidence that helped to identity Miss Moira’s disappearance as being an abduction. The ramifications of his discovery, however, had overwhelmed the elderly gardener and his nerves. Therefore, Lord Cravensworth said he had authorised special leave for their fellow staff member to go away for a few days to visit one of his children in Wales. But, to ensure they wouldn’t be short-staffed, especially when a lot of the investigation was taking place across the extensive grounds, the viscount asked everyone to welcome Archibald Jones, their new temporary gardener.

 

“I trust that you will all do your utmost to make Mr Jones’ time with us a most comfortable one,” their employer had intoned in a tone imbued with generations of his titled responsibility and authority. “He is new to our parts, and currently on loan to us with the highest recommendations from our supportive neighbours at Clarington Court.”

 

In the midst of fervent whispers and a few stifled giggles from a few of the resident and visiting maids (after all the hall was filled with all of the guests’ retainers as well), Archibald had then taken the seat that the butler gestured towards following his lordship’s departure. The handsome gardener graciously thanked the head servant just as one of the maids slid a plate filled with tantalising morsels before him. Her fingers lingered slightly on his shoulder before she gave him a spoon and a bold wink before one of her colleagues shooed her away.

 

“Let the man eat, Cassie,” he admonished good-naturedly with his own wink towards the girl before moving his own plate to sit next to Archibald. “Ian Richards, first footman, welcome to Barrowby, mate. You might’ve met my younger brother, Adam? Lad’s got a job over at Clarington too. ” He shook his hand in a friendly grip before filling Archie’s empty glass with whatever was in the pitcher nearest them before lifting his own in greeting.

 

“Archibald Jones, new gardener obviously, and thank you,” he had responded lifting his glass to clank against his newfound friend’s. “And yes, your brother is a very, er, eager fellow.”

 

Archibald then tucked into his meal to keep from having to make any further conversation for the moment (and because he was ravenous as per usual). At the same time, he managed to keep a nonchalant appearance whilst observing the room’s occupants and listening to the talkative footman rabble on about who was who and everyone’s speculations about the missing girl.

 

“Such a nasty business,” the footman shook his head whilst waving his spoon emphatically. “Poor Ruby was so beside herself, the doctor had to be called in to sedate her. T’was a great shock to us all, but she be closest to the miss as her lady’s maid and all.”

 

“That’s understandable. I also heard that apart from Miss MacGowan’s disappearance, seems as though other things have gone missing as well?” Archibald enquired casually, taking another gulp of the refreshing cordial in his glass. Elderflower, he recalled hearing it referred to.

 

“Hmm, aye, some of the grand ladies’ baubles have disappeared, and more than a few gents are now lighter in the wallet, and not from their own doing it seems. Looks like whoever nabbed the little miss cleared out what he could whilst he was at it. T’was too busy for any of us to notice anything had gone amiss till this morning.”

 

“I heard it was quite the affair. Did you enjoy yourself?”

 

“Oh, aye, how else would I have had the grand opportunity to keep my arms filled with pretty lassies all evening, eh?” Ian waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the maid, called Cassie, who had since joined them across the table with her own meal. She suddenly threw her half eaten dinner roll at him in a huff. With a grin, he deftly caught the bread with his mouth and quickly chewed and gulped it down at a stern look from the butler who had glanced up from his meal and newspaper at the head of the table.

 

“And how should I know, you rogue, considering you whisked me outside and then abandoned me there?”

 

“Ah, my sweet, even a great dancer like myself needs to answer the call of the bog once in a wee while.”

 

“Well then, from what I know of you, it should’ve just been a _wee_ little break, eh,” she rejoined baldly in a mocking tone as a merry roar erupted from all those who overheard their suggestive bantering. The gardener responded with a non-committal half smile as the butler asked everyone to remain civil please. Archibald continued to listen as he finished his meal whilst mentally filing away details and other bits of gossip being traded by those downstairs to process later when he could do so with more leisure.

 

As he now approached his temporary abode, he sighed audibly as he ran a finger over the fluffy thatch of hair over his upper lip, and rubbed his forehead to try to give it some relief against the irritating material of his borrowed cap. What he wouldn’t give for his usual comfortable fedora instead. At least he could go without the scratchy one for a brief spell inside.

 

Due to the urgent nature of the case, it didn’t take too long to transform Detective Inspector Jack Robinson into Archibald Jones, Barrowby Hall’s newest, albeit temporary, gardener on loan. Miss Fisher had fretted over his undercover wardrobe, and now Jack lamented that he should have vetoed more of the items she had managed to discover from some decrepit trunk hidden in the loft since Victorian fashion was still in vogue. The overall result wasn’t too bad (itchiness and all) given Phryne’s lightning speed mind was able to concoct enough of a cover story, with a few of his own contributions, that met the approval of their unwitting planning committee. Chief Constable Ollington and the Baron of Richmond were all too happy to give their hearty endorsement, which also went a long way in securing both Lord Cravensworth’s swifter agreement (compared to his son’s) part in the plan.

 

It was all rather quite simple. They needed someone to help conduct interviews given the sheer number of guests and residential and visiting staff (since most of the aristocrats still rarely left home without their personal maids, valets or chauffeurs). Phryne would accompany and assist Chief Constable Ollington with his ongoing interviews of the MacGowans’ out-of-town family and guests. Jack was to mingle with those “below stairs” whilst having the freedom to roam about the estate and especially the grounds freely without suspicion. After verifying a few details with the viscount, Miss Fisher had concocted the idea of having his lordship grant the elderly Mr Brown some leave so the inspector could assume his duties and also occupy the gardener’s cottage.

 

“It’s imperative that Inspector Robinson be given a modicum of privacy from the rest of the household so he can have the space to process his findings,” the lady detective informed the “planning committee” who had all simply nodded in acquiescence. Only Jack knew from the tone of her voice that there was more to her decree than met the eye.

 

The incognito inspector inserted the black iron key into the cottage’s door whilst still mulling over the facts of the case. He stepped into the near darkness of the hallway, when his sharp instincts immediately alerted him to a slight change in the atmosphere. Quietly grabbing a rake from next to the door, he edged towards the door of the front room when his eyes zeroed in on a basket sitting on the tiny table against one of the cottage’s walls. He relaxed his stance slightly when he recognised it as one of a few he had seen in the kitchens earlier. Perhaps that very helpful maid (Cathy? No, Cassie) had delivered his dinner after all even though he had told her quite firmly that she didn’t have to do so.

 

A creak in the old wooden floor caused him to whirl around with his rake outstretched at the sound of a soft footstep stepping into the room. Even in the semi-darkness due to the quickly disappearing sun, Jack let out the breath he had been holding as his eyes registered a slim figure wearing a maid’s uniform.

 

“Hello, Cassie. Thank you for bringing me some dinner even though I told you to not trouble yourself on my account.”

 

The figure slowly stepped towards him, just enough for him to see that she was also wearing a mischievous smile that was all too familiar.

 

“Bonjour, Monsieur Jones. My name ees Fleur. I believe you have met my cousin, Lisette?” Before he could utter another sound after his initial surprise, she was instantly before him, holding up a soft finger to his lips.

 

“Indeed, mademoiselle,” his gravelly voice lit up her eyes as his own swept her up and down, taking in the wig tucked under her maid’s cap. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to my humble abode?”

 

“Well, I was becoming rather worried that you might be wasting away after working so terribly hard all afternoon,” she reached up to fiddle with his plain, woollen tie before pursing her red lips into a petulant pout. “But eet would seem that I needn’t have bothered since _Cassie_ has already seen to your needs.”

 

“Then I had better make certain you know beyond a doubt that there’s only _one_ woman I’ll ever need,” he growled with an unmistakable gleam to his eye as he threw the rake to the side. She squeaked in delight as he reached out to grasp her by her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

 

“D’accord, monsieur,” her pout extended into a sly smile. “If you insist!”

 

Mr Archibald Jones then proceeded to give her all the reassurance she needed.

  


*-*-*

  


Jack threw another log into the fireplace, fanning the sparks away as the wood crackled into light and warmth that bathed the sparse room in extra coziness. He then resumed his spot on the floor and returned his attention to what remained of a previously large slice of Victorian sponge, sneaking a side glance at his companion who looked quite content wearing not much else, but his previously discarded jumper. She glanced up at him fondly before scooting back to his side and nestling her head back against her favourite hollow next to his neck and shoulder. As he lifted his arm to tuck her in closer, she resumed studying his scrawled notes in the little book he never failed to be anywhere without.

 

“Based on what we now know about the ransom letter and its demands, Jack,” Phryne pondered out loud. “It does seem that our suspect is local, or at least still about, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“Oh, I agree,” Jack nodded after happily gulping down his final bite of cake that left a tiny trail of jam on the corner of his lip. His partner immediately noticed and nudged herself upwards to swipe at the telltale evidence with her tongue. The slight twinge of his lip belied his amusement as he masterfully scrunched his brow in mock consternation. An expression he had all but perfected since he first opened that fateful bathroom door to discover her seemingly innocent one.

 

“If you had wanted more dessert, Miss Fisher, you should have said earlier.”

 

“Oh, but I do want more, Inspector. I’m just saving some room for it later,” she all but purred at him, eliciting one of his lopsided smirks. She then flicked away a wayward crumb from his chin before tracing a finger across the hair above his upper lip.

 

“Looks like this addition to your disguise has been holding up well, Archie.”

 

“A little too well due to your meticulous handiwork, Miss Fisher. So much so that I may be forced to take it back with me to Melbourne.”

 

“That could come in handy considering we never know when Archie may need to make another appearance between there and now.”

 

“For now, let’s hope, we’ll unearth more leads for the case we've got. Perhaps, tomorrow...if the kidnapper cooperates and leaves his or her promised clue that will reveal Moira’s whereabouts,” he smoothly switched back to the case. “Unfortunately, it’s a risk that we’ll just have to take after the drop off is made.”

 

He quickly rubbed a comforting hand up and down Phryne’s arm when she shivered noticeably at his reference to the abduction. Knowing it had to do with something other than any external chill, Jack continued to describe his impressions of the servants he had met and encountered thus far until she melted back into his side. He knew this case must be stirring up terrible memories and shadows for her, and that she would share them with him if and when she was ready to do so.

 

“Setting hearts afire in the kitchen, were we then?” She teased before quickly updating him on the interviews she had conducted with Chief Constable Ollington. “You should be impressed by the poise I maintained, Jack, after enduring endless hours of incessant whining about missing jewels. Oooh, how I wanted to shake them for caterwauling over some gemstones when a girl’s life is at stake!”

 

“I am very impressed indeed, Miss Fisher,” Jack conceded. “Remind me to confiscate your gun before you resume interviews tomorrow.” Ignoring her harrumphing noise, he relayed his observations after having re-examined the purported scenes of the crime, or at least, where they found Moira’s shoe and torn dress fabric.

 

“I’d even begun to do some literal digging for the remainder of the afternoon, but maybe it’s too much to go by on a hunch or two that still doesn’t seem to be leading anywhere.”

 

“Perhaps your hunches will pay off tomorrow, darling,” she consoled him with a quick peck to his cheek.

“I’ve also been meaning to go over the items the police had bagged from earlier this morning, but haven’t had the opportunity to do so until now. Ollington had it all delivered here before I went back out to go digging. Care to join me, Miss Fisher?”

 

“I always said you sure know how to show a girl a good time, Archie!”

 

Phryne quickly scrambled to her knees as Jack gave her another lopsided grin before pulling away to clear some space from their little picnic on the floor. Rustling about inside the generous-sized hamper,  he pulled out the metal tea tray and gave it a little polish before setting it before them. He then reached behind a pile of firewood and withdrew several bags of looked mostly like ordinary rubbish. Opening one, he carefully poured its contents out onto the tray as Phryne hovered, ready with a fork to dive in.

 

“Hmmm, so far, this really does just seem like a big pile of rubbish, Jack,” she reported as he watched her sift through various items that included bits of sweet wrappers, half-eaten pastries and other leftovers she recognised from the available refreshments at the ball. The inspector had donned his gardening gloves and methodically double-checked each item she cast aside before returning it to the evidence pouch. They continued in concentrated silence until Phryne stopped and excitedly began pointing at one particular item she had managed to retrieve from a bit of tartlette with the fork.

 

“Look here, Jack!”

 

“I really should have saved you some dessert, shouldn’t I?” He couldn’t help quipping as she gave him a pointed stare. “What have you unearthed, Miss Fisher?”

 

She scooped it up with her cutlery and held it up closer in front of their faces.

 

“When’s the last time you saw a corkscrew lid this tiny, Jack?”

 

“Why, that’s remarkable,” he stated as he registered her meaning instantly.

 

“Why, thank you,” she replied cheekily. “You should see what I can do with a spoon.”

  
Jack shook his head in affectionate wonder as they both contemplated the tiny object before them. It was exactly like the one that Phryne had removed just that morning from an amber vial. One that had contained the oils that the maid, Lisette, had used to revive Margaret Fisher.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nebulous morning tea and crucial (albeit cryptic) clue to spur our detectives onward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, apologies that more travelling and recurring health issues have been preventing me from writing or being as active on Tumblr of late. Managed to squeeze this chapter out that I hope you'll enjoy.
> 
> As ever, huge thanks to @comeaftermejackrobinson for her incredible patience for reviewing and editing her own long overdue birthday fic!
> 
> And, as always, thank you, dear readers, for your lovely, fun, and encouraging feedback that keeps me returning to my drafts!

The intermittent sound of sipping followed the gentle tinkling of a teaspoon being placed on a saucer. A charming clock on the mantel tapped out an oddly soothing cadence to counter the nervous tension that the room’s current occupants were desperately trying to ignore. Outside, the wind seemed to carry a mournful echo as it swept a burst of fallen leaves that rained against one of the windows.

 

“Oh, I simply cannot stand it any longer,” Lady Catherine MacGowan, the Viscountess of Cravensworth, burst out suddenly. Her daughter, Catriona, reached over to rescue her mother’s teacup before it slipped from her shaky grasp. “What if something goes wrong?”

 

Lady Margaret Fisher, Baroness of Richmond, paled slightly, but also replaced her teacup to lean over towards her neighbour and friend. In spite of her oftentimes distance manner, Margaret Fisher was not one to mince her sympathies when she felt compelled to dispense with them. Unfortunately, this was one situation where she had been driven through hell and back even if she never spoke of that time to anyone. At least she could try to lend her support in whatever way she could.

 

“Now, you mustn’t think that way, Catherine.”

 

“Yes, do try to calm down, Mother,” the Honourable Catriona MacGowan adopted a soothing tone. “We must trust that Father and the police are doing all they can to find Moira and bring her safely back home.” She glanced across the coffee table towards her friend for some added reassurance.

 

The Honourable Phryne Fisher immediately lowered her own teacup and leaned forward with her usual confident poise. She shifted her eyes away from the only person present who could have an inkling of what lay beneath her composed surface. Although the loss of Janey was never far from Phryne’s thoughts (no matter how many years had managed to creep by) the gaping hole that her sister had left within her own family continued to haunt them all. Perhaps more so, because they never spoke of her. It had simply been less painful to avoid speaking about their daughter or sister at all. Even after her remains had been discovered, Aunt Prudence had stepped in to contact her sister and handle all the particulars on behalf of the family.

 

At least Phryne had found someone to help remind her to not be afraid of this particular shadow any longer.

 

“Mother and Catriona are absolutely right, Lady Catherine. Inspector Robinson and I went over the plans for the ransom drop off with your husband and Chief Constable Ollington repeatedly. They will ensure that he delivers the ransom demand to the middle of the maze safely and will continue to monitor the fountain for the promised clue to Moira’s whereabouts. Your husband and daughter are in good hands.”

 

“I’m so glad that you and Inspector Robinson could be here now to assist our family with this investigation,” Catriona smiled sincerely before leaning towards Phryne with a conspiratorial air about her. “He’s also certainly a welcome sight for sore eyes.”

 

“Catriona Mathilde MacGowan!” Her mother immediately reprimanded her, all her distress momentarily forgotten over her daughter’s lack of propriety “What would John say if he heard you saying such things!”

 

Margaret remained silent, but her daughter recognised (and ignored) the stoic expression the baroness had adopted announcing her own displeasure at the turn of the conversation.

 

Equally unfazed by her own mother’s reaction, Catriona’s attention was drawn to a movement and the sound of trimming by the window nearest to her. Both she and Phryne instantly noticed the handsome gardener who had just approached one of the large, purple hydrangea bushes just outside the window and began pruning it. Catriona slipped her friend a knowing grin just as the lady detective dropped her a long wink and one of her impish smiles in return. Mingled with the teasing exchange between the younger women was a sense of relief since the inspector’s return meant that Lord Cravensworth had been able to deliver the ransom demand without incident. Now, they all needed to continue to wait.

 

“John wouldn’t say a bloody thing, besotted fool,” declared an arrogant voice as the Honourable Rupert MacGowan sauntered into the parlour. “Sides, doesn’t matter now that he’s locked into marrying her.”

 

“No one asked for your opinion, brother dear,” Catriona immediately countered in a brusque tone.

 

“Do come join us, my dear,” his mother invited him eagerly. “Have you heard anything from your father or the police? Has there been any word about Moira yet?”

 

“No, nothing yet, Mother,” he responded after selecting the empty spot next to Phryne. She tried not to cringe when the buffoon began to slide his arm along the back edge of the chaise she had been occupying. He hadn’t failed to notice the ogling looks that his sister and Miss Fisher had been directing towards the window where their new gardener had just turned away.

 

“But what else would you expect when we’re left at the mercy of these country bumpkin types for police out here? Ow! Bloody hell!”

 

Phryne had suddenly jumped up, deliberately stamping on Rupert’s toes in the process with her jaunty patented heels.

 

“Oh, do forgive me for rushing off, Lady Catherine and Mother, ” she apologised in a breathless tone with another wink towards Catriona. “But Rupert just kindly reminded me that I’m due to join the investigative team now as we wait for the kidnapper’s response. According to the ransom letter, that should be soon.”

 

She then whirled out of the room in a flurry of furs and silks before anyone could comment.

 

*-*-*

 

Jack Robinson reached out an arm to draw his partner in close for a quick embrace when she suddenly appeared by his side. The inspector smirked when she dropped an affectionate kiss onto his cheek and wrapped both her arms around his waist in response. He had chosen a well-hidden gap in some tall shrubbery as his vantage point from which to watch the fountain where the first ransom letter had been discovered yesterday.

 

“What took you so long,” he whispered into her ear. How was it that he always managed to make her feel like he had been missing her for years when it had only been a bare handful of minutes since he’d last seen her? “There was nearly nothing left of that poor hydrangea I was forced to trim.”

 

“I had a big pest to crush,” she replied cryptically with a slight nibble to his ear lobe.

 

“Miss Fisher,” he replied in a warning tone. “We’re on duty!”

 

“No one can see us though.”

 

“Perhaps. But, I can see glimpses of them right now so we should try not to be distracted.”

 

Sure enough, she could make out the outlines of Chief Constable Ollington behind a tree, and his more visible constable who wasn’t doing as great a job of blending in behind some rose bushes.

 

“Oh, all right,” she conceded with a little pout, knowing he was right. “But, you’ll have to make it up to me later.”

 

“I’m counting on it, Miss Fisher. Or should I say ‘Mademoiselle Fleur?’”

 

“You’ll just have to wait and see, Inspector.”

 

Suddenly, Jack swivelled his head from side to side as his instincts went on high alert. No one had approached the fountain, however, despite the ransom letter’s messaging stating that the clue to Moira’s whereabouts would be delivered by the fountain shortly after the ransom had been dropped off in the maze.

 

“Jack, look!” Phryne’s arms squeezed him so tightly in her excitement, that he nearly couldn’t breathe. They both watched in stunned silence as a pigeon landed on the fountain. “There’s something tucked into its leg holder!”

 

The two detectives emerged slowly from their hiding place and slowly approached the fountain. Jack held his fingers to his lips and gave a wave with his other hand to signal the other policemen.

 

“Here pigeon, pigeon,” Phryne cooed as she reached out to grasp the bird. Jack also reached out a helping hand to steady their messenger as Phryne deftly detached the rolled up snippet of paper from the tube attached to its leg.

 

“Can you keep hold of it, Jack? We may need it after we read the note.”

 

The inspector quickly obliged and found himself with a handful of warm feathers just as Chief Constable Ollington puffed his way over after Constable Davies arrived. His eyes widened at the sight of the detectives and the bird.

 

“Blimey, is that the clue?”

 

“It appears so, Constable,” Jack nodded as they all watched Phryne unroll the parchment expectantly. She flattened the paper as much as she could and began to read the bold, typed letters:

 

 **FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS TRUSTY STEED** **  
** **MIGHT SHOOT THE BREEZE  
****AND HELP UNLOCK THE KEY THAT YOU NEED**

 

Miss Fisher paused dramatically before turning towards her companions, one of whom was gaping like a fish out of water.

 

“Crikey, what do you think they’re going on about, Miss?” He quickly turned to his senior officer and the inspector. “Sirs?”

 

Phryne flicked an amused glanced towards the inspector. _Looks like we’ve found Hugh’s English counterpart, Inspector. Admit it, you miss him._

 

Jack briefly rolled his eyes at her. _Just what we need. Two of them._

 

As though he could hear their silent conversation, Constable Davies tentatively stepped closer towards Miss Fisher to re-read the note with his own eyes.

 

“Father Christmas doesn’t ride a steed. He travels by reindeer, doesn’t he?”

 

“I’ve certainly never come across a riddle like this,” Chief Constable Ollington mulled it over. “Truth be told, I haven’t come across a riddle at all during my time on the force here. What do you reckon, Miss Fisher? Inspector?”

 

“I think Constable Davies is onto something,” Phryne beamed at the younger man who began to blush to his already very red-headed roots.

  
Chief Constable Ollington immediately stopped mulling through his thoughts. “Hang on, that rings a bell. Didn’t the local pub in Winsham recently change its name?”

  
“Yes, sir, it’s now ‘The Old Reindeer’! Bloody hell, ahem, begging your pardon, Miss,” the younger man quickly flushed in embarrassment again. “But, blimey, d’you think that’s got something to do with the clue?”

 

“It’s certainly worth checking out,” Inspector Robinson concurred. “A public house is certainly where many tend to go to ‘shoot the breeze’ as it were. At least, that’s how Buffalo Bill might phrase it.”

 

“You mean, somewhere to go and get a pint and ‘put the world to rights and all,’ Inspector?”

 

“That’s right, Constable. We should definitely head out there as soon as we can. Whilst we’re at it, are either of you aware of anyone locally who owns carrier pigeons?”

 

The inspector now found himself being stared open-mouthed by both local policemen.

 

“Of course!” Miss Fisher looked up from petting her new pigeon friend that Jack had gladly relinquished back to her. “Father mentioned something to me recently about a new barkeep in one of the local villages who could train birds to post his letters. I just thought he was too far into his cups as usual.”

 

“Well then, that’s too close to be a coincidence,” Chief Constable Ollington decided. “Looks like we’d better make our way to my sleigh, er, motorcar!”

 

The Australian detectives turned towards each other for a few seconds before nodding.

 

“I’ll head towards the end of the lane and wait for you there so as not to be seen. Miss Fisher will go quickly brief Lord Cravensworth and his family. They should know our discovery as soon as possible.”

 

Phryne nodded her agreement. “I’ll have to wait until Richards, our chauffeur, can take Mother and I back to Clarington Court. I’ll make my own way to the village as soon as I can.”

 

“Right-o then! Come along, Davies.”

 

No one failed to notice the solid shadow slink away further into the gardens just as the others departed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a stickler for historical accuracy, I’m also so delighted to discover when a phrase or description I want to use in my MFMM writing fits into the time period. This is certainly one of them:
> 
>   _Shoot the breeze: Talk idly, chat, as in They've been sitting on the porch for hours, just shooting the breeze. The first instance of this slang term, alluding to talking into the wind, was first recorded in 1919._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archibald continues his investigations at the nearby village pub...with the unexpected aid of his previous undercover partner, Mrs Fern Jones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn’t have Jack hogging all the undercover fun, right? 
> 
> Now that I'm nearly back to health, I'm nearing the end of finishing writing this fic! Here's the next installment to whet your whistles!

The heavy wooden door sporting a shiny, new red coat of paint creaked its protest at having to admit yet another morning visitor. Apparently, the new owner of The Old Reindeer hadn’t yet gotten around to oiling the portal’s complaining hinges, fancy new colour or not, mused the newcomer. Removing his (still itchy) cap, Archibald Jones paused slightly to allow his eyes to adjust to the darker interior. The inescapable stale atmosphere characteristic of similar venues the world over instantly assailed him as he took in his surroundings.

 

The incognito inspector noted the faded surroundings complete with two or three locals who had probably been coming here for their late morning pints since before he was born most likely. The old timers briefly glanced up at him from their avid hand and cane waving conversation and quickly lost interest in preference to winning the debate over the increase in hay feed rates. Archibald gave them all a polite nod anyway before making his way past the otherwise empty chairs and tables towards the bar area.

 

He nonchalantly waited at the other end from where his local constabulary counterparts were in full dialogue with what appeared to be the pub owner. They had decided amongst them on the way over to the village that it might be best to separate in case the inspector could observe or find out other details about the clue or the case in his current undercover state. Jack wished they had had the opportunity to let Miss Fisher know about the slight change in plans, but knowing her as he did, he wasn’t too worried.

 

“Can I get ya, anythin’, luv? Lunch won’t be served for another hour or so though, but I’m sure I could rustle up a little sumthin’ in case you’re peckish.” A buxom woman wearing a clean, white apron had bustled up to the other side of the bar when she noticed the new visitor looking towards her husband and the coppers at the end.

 

“Thank you, some tea and perhaps a little something to nibble for now would do very nicely, Miss…?”

 

“Mrs Ruth Goodwin, luv. Hitched to Mr Harry Goodwin down yonder,” she introduced herself, glancing over his shoulder slightly as the front door groaned in protest again. “And, of course, luv, you be lookin’ like you could use more than a little nibble. You be needing some more meat on those bones of yours.”

 

“I, er…”

 

She whirled around to begin putting together a tea tray. “Need to tell your missus to take better care of you, that’s what.” The pub owner’s wife tsked and shook her head and then brandished her bread knife at the plight of all starving lads having to put up with these modern women and their shocking lack of cooking skills. Then again, that also provided her with a lot more business so perhaps she shouldn’t be too judgemental.

 

“Trust me,” an amused voice suddenly broke into the conversation. “I’ve been trying to fatten him up for yonks, but it hasn’t made a jot of difference.”

 

Again, Jack silently thanked the powers that were for giving him ample practice in not betraying an iota of surprise whenever it came to the adorably unpredictable and indomitable Miss Fisher.

 

Mrs Goodwin instantly twirled around with more nimbleness than her girth implied. “Heavens above, I meant no offense, luv! Just could never bear to see a hungry man and not do something about it.”

 

“Oh, no harm done at all,” reassured the beautiful woman wearing slightly dated, yet finely-tailoured riding clothes. She slipped a gloved hand possessively around the aforementioned hungry man’s arm before holding out her other one. “I’m Fern Jones, by the way. And, you’ve obviously met my Archie.”

 

“And this is Mrs Goodwin, my love,” her husband interjected before patting her hand and secretly patting himself on the back for having the foresight to change into one of Archie’s casual daytime outfits before their village expedition. Even undercover, he doubted anyone would believe that Fern would be seen associated with, let alone married, to a grubby, country gardener.

 

“So what brings you here to Somerset then, luvies? From the sounds of it, I highly doubt either of you was born here in Chard. Or anywhere I’ve been to,” she wondered aloud before turning to attack a fresh loaf of bed with the knife. “Then again, this is the first time I’ve been anywhere other than the West Country where my Harry and I are from. Ever been down there?”

 

“No, not yet…” Archie began to murmur before he recalled that he actually didn’t know whether or not his ‘wife’ had been to Cornwall. She simply beamed at him with a tiny squeeze to his arm and slight shake of her head, indicating that she hadn’t yet explored that end of the country either. Not that their hostess noticed anything.

 

“Well, we moved here only a couple months ago after buyin’ this place. Been tryin’ to do it up a bit more since. Always been our dream to have our own little business after we saved enough from being in service for years at a grand old house down there called Thoresby Abbey. Not that we were dying to get away or anythin’, mind you,” she was quick to inform them as she added an impressive arrangement of cheese to the tray. “The family at Thoresby was so lovely, it was hard to part ways. But, this was an opportunity we simply couldn’t pass up.”

 

“They sound lovely,” Fern concluded. “How did you come to know about this opportunity then?”

 

“Well, it wasn’t too difficult, luv,” Mrs Goodwin told them. “We had been making active enquiries once we knew we had been able to save up enough for something decent. Then, one of our contacts notified us of this pub going on the market due to the need for a quick sale at nearly half of what it was worth.”

 

“What do you mean? Was something wrong with it?”

 

“Oh, nothing like that, luv,” the jovial woman glanced over at her husband who looked like he had just finished his conversation with the police. “Apparently, the previous owner went into debt and needed to come up with some funds really quickly. Don’t worry, we made sure to ask Lord Thoresby to recommend a good solicitor who took care of everything so it was all done above board, you see.”

 

“Of course, I’m so pleased for you that everything worked out so well in the end,” Mrs Jones smiled at their hostess.

 

“And, we hear that you gave it a new name?” Archie finally managed to interject something to the conversation.

 

“Yes, that was one of Harry’s ideas,” his wife rolled her eyes even as her face broke into a happy and proud expression. “Well, just look at him! Everyone, especially the village children, always loved to call him ‘Father Christmas’ and he’s crazy over every beast of the earth. Could always tame them. He was the chief stable manager at Thoresby Abbey and all. So, he told me that whenever we finally managed to find our pub, we simply had to give it this name. And so we did.”

 

“How charming,” Fern gushed before widening her eyes briefly at her husband who nodded ever so slightly at the implications of what they were hearing. “You must have ever so many pets?”

 

“Oh, nothing like he used to back home what with full reign of the stables and Lord knows what else, luv. Nowadays, he sticks to his birds and chickens out back, especially since the eggs help so much here!”

 

“Birds?”

 

“Oh yes, bloomin’ menagerie out back. Would become a zoo if he had his way. For now, there’s his beloved parrot, and he’s been training up carrier pigeons again. In fact, he’s been giving a few of the locals some lessons given the interest. He still keeps a horse as well, a farewell gift from his lordship down at Thoresby. So long as he doesn’t allow things around here to go slack, I’m happy for him to tinker away with them.”

 

At that precise moment, Archie’s stomach responded with an unmistakable growl that evoked a sheepish look from its owner, one of mirth from his wife, and one of horror from his hostess.

 

“Oh, luv, you’re wasting away with all of my yammerin’! Here, come sit down, right here,” she shooed them towards the closest table before coming around the bar with her heavily-laden tray. “Start with this, and then I’ll go check on the roast in the oven.”

 

“I’ll just go and freshen up first, darling, you go ahead and start,” Fern then leant down to give Archie a peck on the cheek as she fondly watched him salivate over the feast placed before him.

 

“I’ll go find out what the others have discovered and exchange notes, Inspector, ” she whispered into his ear. “Do eat up! After all, I won’t continue to be accused of allowing you to waste away!” She gave him a conspiratorial wink and a longer kiss before sashaying to the door.

 

Archie lifted his teacup to second her plan before returning his attention back to his delectable ploughman’s platter.

 

 

*-*-*

  


Just as Jack was nearly finished devouring his mouthful of ham, pickled onions and freshly baked bread, The Old Reindeer’s entrance once again loudly creaked open. He glanced up and began to wonder where his partner had disappeared to just as a slightly familiar, battered suitcase landed at his feet.

 

“Evicting me already, Miss Fisher?” He pitched his sly response at a tone he knew only she could hear.

 

She grinned wickedly before leaning over to snatch the slice of bread piled high with ham and a slice of boiled egg from his hand as she seated herself next to him with her customary, effortless grace.

 

“Darling, you must save some room for Mrs Goodwin’s roast!” Her eyes twinkled as she bit into the morsel and chewed enthusiastically before adding, “Although, maybe you could use some brief exercise before then after everything you’ve just devoured.” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively before glancing emphatically at the remnant of crumbs and a few uneaten grapes still gracing his plate. She then watched him with her own hungry expression as he licked his lips in satisfaction.

 

“Welcome to The Old Reindeer,” they were both suddenly greeted by a jolly and portly man with a trimmed white beard whom they had both seen speaking to the constables earlier. “Name’s Harry Goodwin, and my missus tells me you’re awaiting some lunch? Is there anything else I can get ya’s with it?”

 

“Actually, we were also wondering whether you and Mrs Goodwin have any vacancies at the moment?” Phryne turned to him with one of her genuine, charming smiles. “We’ve been travelling over the past few days, and it would be lovely to pause here for another day or so.”

 

“Good thing you came by now as we were actually full up to the brim until today. Mostly Londoners and the like, but a few from all over really.”

 

“Oh, have we just missed out on a major event then?” Jack casually enquired.

 

“Well, guess you could say so,” the pub owner replied in a mysterious tone, but his expression told the keen detectives that he was bursting to share. “There was a grand ball at one of the nearby big houses.”

 

“Well, that does sound like quite a ‘to do’ for a country village,” Miss Fisher encouraged him. “But surely isn’t that very usual for a large estate? Your wife mentioned how you both worked for the family at Thoresby Abbey. I’m sure they must have had many a ball, for example.”

 

“Oh, of course, you’re spot on there, lass. And we’re very happy for the MacGowans and their daughter’s engagement,” their host stated heartily.

 

“Did something else happen then?” Phryne’s eyebrows rose ever so inquisitively.

 

Harry leaned over slightly and continued in a lower tone. “Oh, aye. Sounds like someone decided to take advantage of the big do and made off with the entire family’s jewels...and the daughter too.” His expression then grew worried.

 

“Why, that’s terrible!” Miss Fisher scrunched her face into genuine horror.

 

“Hope the coppers can find her though,” the affable gentleman nodded at his guests. “Stealing baubles is one thing. But harming a lass is never right.”

 

“Is that why they were just here, Mr Goodwin,” Jack asked. “We couldn’t help noticing them when we arrived earlier.”

 

“Oh, yes,” their host replied. “But nothing to worry yourselves over. We’re a fine, respectable establishment here, and we take the safety of our guests very seriously.”

 

“I feel confident that you do,” Phryne beamed at him as he began to clear Jack’s finished dinnerware.

 

“Now, if you won’t be needing anything else, how abouts I show you both to your room? You could freshen up until Ruthie’s roast is ready to be served.”

 

“Marvellous idea, Mr Goodwin,” Phryne jumped to her feet as Jack followed suit, pushing in their empty chairs. The inspector then picked up his, or the Jones’ suitcase rather, and followed his beloved who had looped her arm conversationally through that of their Santa-like host.

 

“Now, is it true what your lovely wife told us that you’re able to tame wild animals, Mr Goodwin?”

 

Jack allowed himself the luxury of a nearly full grin as the unsuspecting pub owner led his guests towards the stairs. He had no doubt that his intrepid partner would have learned all she needed to know about the matter by the time they had reached their room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is on Jack's mind...and it's not about the case so Phryne investigates in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your comments and warm well wishes, I'm now nearly 100% recovered and have been writing up a storm! Here's an extra fluffy chapter to reward you for your patience!

“Penny for your thoughts, Jack?” 

 

This was followed by the feel of two familiar arms sliding around his waist from behind. Jack remained standing in deep thought by the quaint window seat that invited one to sit and bask in the the “best view from the house,” according to the establishment’s owner. And despite having to take their host’s word on the matter, the inspector certainly wasn’t going to complain about the only beautiful view he would ever prefer...from any room he ever found himself in again. He voiced these thoughts aloud in response to the query posed to him before turning his head to enjoy said view again over his shoulder with a tell-tale glint in his eye. She replied by turning him around to face her before pulling his head down towards her for a rewarding kiss.

 

“Now, why don’t I help you ‘freshen up’ before luncheon just as our kind hosts have recommended?” She deftly pushed him down towards the window seat before climbing onto his lap with her knees around him, her riding boots digging into the sides of his legs. She then proceeded to attack the restraints of his tie and whatever elements of his clothing her hands touched. “After all, you did promise to make it up to me earlier.”

 

“That is true, Miss Fisher,” Jack cleared his throat suddenly, trying to retain some semblance of control as he felt the cool air hit him in areas normally well protected by his fabric armour during this time of day. “But, I had envisioned doing so from the luxurious environs of my humble gardener’s cottage at the time.” 

 

“I couldn’t wait that long.”

 

“Evidently not,” he tried not to smirk or squirm as her lips began to trail along his collarbone and slowly down his chest. “And, I’m not one to complain normally against your unpredictable schemes, of course…” He chuckled outright as she paused in her ministrations to lift up her head and both eyebrows at him in mock disbelief. 

 

“Oh, all right, I’m certainly not opposed to our new abode for the night, by any means,” he didn’t even blink as Archie’s jumper sailed towards the floor. “ But, er, just how am I to explain my absence at Barrowby Hall? And what did Goodwin say again? Something about this being much more inviting than a ‘honeymoon hut’?”

 

Phryne continued to push first one then the second strap of his braces off his shoulders as she ruminated on the odd term.

 

“Yes, I think he mentioned something about how it’s all the latest talk of the town for the hotelier industry. New ways to try to attract thrifty newlywed couples to book camping sites with these specialised places where they can celebrate their new marital bliss.”

 

“Is that what the Goodwins think we’re doing? Celebrating our honeymoon, I mean?”

 

“Possibly. Either way, it’s certainly helping with our new cover story at the moment, at any rate,” her lips returned to their earlier quest even as her fingers began to undo the buttons on his trousers. “Until we can unravel the second ransom clue. And don’t worry about your unexpected absence from Barrowby’s gardens, darling. You’re only on loan to them after all.”

 

But, the inspector evidently had something else to get off his chest before he could completely surrender it to the wonderful things she was doing to it with her mouth.

 

“Phryne?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“I’ve also been wondering…”

 

She made another humming noise in response this time.

 

“As we’ve been speaking of honeymoons, why did you call me your fiance a few nights ago?” His tightened his hold around her waist when he felt her body go tense. “I mean, I know you were angry and trying to defend me against what MacGowan and his lady friend were saying about you and I. I’m just curious as to why you chose that specific explanation?”

 

Jack knew he was risking much by bringing the matter up at this junction. And as he felt the loss of her soft lips against his skin, he was aware of what else he could lose by mentioning the nagging thought that simply wouldn’t leave him alone since the incident in the maze. It had only been the urgent nature of the case (technically, cases, if he counted Rupert’s ridiculous attempt to frame him for burglary, which they could deal with after discovering Moira’s whereabouts) that they had found themselves thrown into that had kept him from voicing his thoughts. Now that they were free from her mother’s disapproving coldness and the prying eyes of an entire houseful of guests and staff, now that they had a tiny modicum of space just to themselves again, he wanted to discover why she had declared what she had said. Rather publically.

 

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered as she closed her eyes, straightened up and tilted her forehead against his. “To be honest, I’m not sure why I said what I did exactly. All I knew was that their cruel words about you, about us, they somehow tarnished our beautiful connection. How dare they undermine you and what we share! It  _ still _ makes my blood boil!”

 

“But you’ve never cared what others think about you before now,” he had slipped his hands under her riding jacket and had begun to run his finger tips up and down the back of her silky blouse as he continued to work out this mini mystery. “Why now?”

 

“My darling inspector,” she smiled as she traced his jawline fondly. “Do you really have to ask?”

 

He simply replied with her favourite, endearing half smile. “With you, it’s probably always the safer bet.”

 

“That’s because I now care even more so what others think about  _ you _ . People will always say what they will about me, I expect that, and admittedly, have even thrived on it. But now, it’s no longer just about me. It’s about  _ us _ . I may be rather new to this whole ‘commitment’ aspect of a relationship, Jack. But, I’m not a stranger to being your partner...or protecting those whom I love. So, if making you my fiance will help protect you and your association with me. Then, so be it.”

 

Jack’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped open as his head rapidly tried to process her words and transmit them to his heart. She couldn’t help letting out a soft laugh of delight at his dumbfounded expression.

 

“Phryne, I…” she lifted a finger to his lips to stop his words. 

 

“Jack, when have I ever willingly done anything that I didn’t intend or want to do?” She let out a tiny squeak as he playfully nipped at her fingertip.

 

“Never, Miss Fisher.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“But…”

 

“What happened to not complaining about my, how did you phrase it again, my ‘unpredictable schemes?’” Her expression, however, quickly clouded up with uncharacteristic doubt. “Unless, you’d rather  _ not _ be my fiance?”

 

Jack deliberately kept his poker face intact as his hands stilled against her. “Well, Miss Fisher, I have been privy to at least one proposal of marriage recently, despite its utterly inelegant delivery and reception. But, alas, it was not directed at me.”

 

“I should hope not!” Knowing he was referring to Rupert’s farcical proposal, she nevertheless crossed her arms at the thought of anyone daring to attempt such effrontery with  _ her _ inspector.

 

“And therein remains the problem,” her partner stated sombrely, again, implementing more of his proven practice at not flinching in the midst of how he truly felt when it came to her. However, he couldn’t help allowing a tiny twinkle to dance across his eyes as he saw her clever brain quickly make the right deductions.

 

“Jack Robinson, you silly, yet wonderful  man,” she reached out to cup his face with genuine love, affection and exasperation reflecting from her eyes. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my fiance? Even if we will most likely  _ never _ set a date or celebrate our new status with an engagement ball?”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of having it any other way. So, yes, Miss Fisher, it would be my honour,” he whole-heartedly agreed. “Now, say it again.”

 

She instantly knew what he meant. “I love you, Jack Robinson.”

 

He responded by tenderly cupping her head and pulling the rest of her against him, allowing his lips tell convey his response before he was able to verbalise it.

 

“And, I love you, Phryne Fisher. For far longer than I ever thought I’d be able to admit. To myself let anyone...and especially to you.”

 

Her eyes shone with the depth and span of her complete comprehension of his declaration even as her heart chided her for the moments when she had attempted to avoid the truth of his words. Knowing her as well as he did, his own eyes sought to dismiss the charges that he could see she was making against herself. He shook his head and waited for her to exonerate and surrender herself completely without any further self-recriminations. 

 

She then eagerly resumed her earlier mission to help him disrobe before pushing him back down against the rather comfortable window seat whose view would most likely never be properly enjoyed by its current occupants. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their little break, our daring detecting duo exchange notes with their local constabulary team. And no Phrack investigation would be quite complete without some middle of the night breaking and entering!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love the fluff, but I also love it when Phryne and Jack are in full investigative mode. So, here's my attempt at combining a bit of both (let me know what you think)!

Needless to say, Mrs Goodwin was only slightly put out that her new guests were late for lunch. She was more than mollified, however, when that “dishy young man” made up for it by asking for more before shooing them out the door.

 

“Now, you two had best go enjoy the sights instead and walk everything off, luv,” she admonished in a motherly tone. “After all, you need to make some room for your supper!”

 

The two detectives were more than happy to comply and slipped out the freshly oiled door.

 

“It’s somewhat of a shame that we’ll only be staying at The Old Reindeer for one evening,” the inspector ruminated as they ambled arm-in-arm down the village’s sole main thoroughfare that boasted a shop and post office.

 

“Don’t let Mr B catch you switching culinary loyalties, Jack,” Phryne teased him good-naturedly.

 

“Never, Miss Fisher,” he conceded soundly before turning a wicked gleam towards her. “But I wasn’t just referring to my stomach’s satisfaction.” She responded by tugging him behind a large, sprawling tree that had her emerging moments later with considerably less lipstick than before (if anyone had cared to notice).

 

They continued down the quiet street only stopping briefly at the pretty little shop on the corner where Phryne purchased a few hand-made, lace handkerchiefs for Dot and some hopefully non-potent fudge for Mr Butler. The shopkeeper was all too eager to indulge the glowing couple who enquired about some of the local sights. After thanking her profusely, Phryne pulled Jack back outside to the street and towards the village green where she had left the motorcar.

 

“I asked Richards to prepare this non-descript tin can that Father acquired from god knows where or how. Thought it would be less conspicuous than one of the others.”

 

“Wise decision, Miss Fisher,” Jack agreed as he considered the distinct lack of Rolls Royce’s in the immediate vicinity. He was also soon reminded of the fact that Phryne’s driving skills in England hardly differed from those she normally displayed in Australia in spite of the irony of their intended destination.  

 

Once they reached the larger town of Chard with the inspector clutching both his cap and stomach (perhaps he shouldn’t have helped himself to another slice of Mrs Goodwin’s tea cake after all), Miss Fisher pulled up right outside the door of the police station. She, at least demurely waited for Jack to open her door on his slightly wobbly legs before again taking his arm and steering him to the quaint-looking building that matched the rest of town’s quintessential High Street.

 

Constable Davies looked up from his post front desk just as the tiny bell that jingled when the door admitted the two detectives. Chief Constable Ollington instantly materialised and ushered them eagerly to his office.

 

“Welcome, welcome,” the senior officer waved them inside. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

 

Miss Fisher unceremoniously commandeered the only visitor’s chair, leaving Jack with the option of leaning against the side of Ollington’s desk. Their host passed a folio towards Inspector Robinson and then proceeded to update the two detectives on the policemen’s conversation and findings from their visit to The Old Reindeer.

 

“So, Mr Goodwin was able to confirm that he and his wife were looking after their establishment the night of the ball. Based on their guest registry, the majority had been staying at their inn to attend the MacGowan ball. But so far, we have been able to speak to a handful not associated with the estate who have confirmed the owner and his wife’s whereabouts up until they stopped serving food and drinks.”

 

“Which I’ve been informed several times is nine o’clock for food orders and midnight for spirits,” Jack concluded, ignoring his partner’s exaggerated eye roll at why he would be privy to such knowledge. Miss Fisher then sat up straight with the air of a queen about to bestow a great verdict to her subjects.

 

“Well, whilst you gentleman have been confirming their catering schedule, I was able to learn how to train a carrier pigeon, of which Harry Goodwin seems to be quite well-versed.”

 

“We did ask him if he had sent any messages to Barrowby Hall recently,” Constable Davies mentioned as he entered the tiny office with a fresh teapot and two cups rattling against one another. “And he seemed rather surprised by the question, saying that wasn’t one of his birds normal delivery routes. So, it couldn’t have been him who sent it then, could it?”

 

“Bravo, Constable,” she beamed at him, nearly causing him to upend the cup he was about to pass to her. “Possibly. He did seem genuinely upset about the news of Moira’s abduction.”

 

“Although that is far from conclusive evidence to remove him from suspicion,” Jack interjected. “Did he mention any of the names of others who knew about his training methods?”

 

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to find that out yet,” Phryne pouted briefly. “But, Mr Goodwin did say that it all had to do with using food and water incentives, and creating a route using pigeon feed. The bird and its feed would have to be taken manually to the second location long enough until it could learn to migrate the route between there and its home base independently.”

 

“So, what we’re looking for is someone at Barrowby who would be in possession of pigeon feed?” Chief Constable Ollington furrowed his brow.

 

“More or less,” Phryne agreed. “Although, I highly doubt they would be waltzing about the place with it. So, we will need to rely on our trusty gardener to add that to his investigations on the grounds.”

 

“Did Mr Goodwin tell you how long it takes to train the birds, and if anyone else locally also works with them?” Jack asked.

 

“He did say that quite a few of the locals have asked him about it,” she recalled. “But from what he can tell, no one has actually taken it up since it takes such a long time for the birds to learn one route. I believe it can take anywhere from thirty to forty days.”

 

“Surely, he’d have noticed someone hanging about or borrowing his birds for that amount of time,” Davies noted before suddenly digging through his little, black notebook. “In fact, when we asked him if he was ever worried about his animals, he said that so far, it’s been a peaceful village with no issues.”

 

“Except,” Ollington jabbed an excited finger into the air. “I’ve just remembered how he told us he’d noticed the latch on the pigeon’s loft was loose one day, but didn’t think much of it.”

 

“When?” Both Miss Fisher and the inspector asked simultaneously.

 

“Yesterday,” Ollington replied with satisfaction at his discovery. “The day after the ball.”

 

*-*-*

 

Jack blinked his eyes open and held still, rapidly assessing where he was and whatever it was that had pulled him from his sleep. He was tucked securely under the thick covers cocooning him that were quite different from the scratchy ones from his gardener’s cottage. They also weren’t the silky ones from his grand guest suite at Clarington Hall. His nose then registered hints of roses wafting in from the slightly opened window that he remembered closing before they had finally settled into slumber. That was it. The scent intermingled with one he would knew he could never live without again because it meant his favourite person was also nearby.

 

“Phryne?” his sleep-laden voice grounded out. “What’s wrong?” Even in his semi-conscious state, he could sense that something was not quite right.

 

“Shhh, it’s all right, Jack,” her voice instantly reached him from across the room. “I’m right here.”

 

He could see the outline of her shadow against the backdrop of the soft moonlight as she stood from the window seat and closed the window. The bed dipped as she sat down on the edge closest to him, and he made a contented noise as she brushed back the hair from his forehead.

 

“I had a bad dream, that’s all,” she confided softly. Hearing the usually more hidden tones of her vulnerability, Jack immediately freed his arms from the blankets to reach out for her. “I dreamt that we couldn’t find her, Jack. And then, I dreamt that we did find her...just not in time. It reminded me so much of...” her voice cracked slightly.

 

“It’s all right, love,” he echoed her words from moments earlier and immediately pushed himself upwards in order to be able to pull her closer to him. “It was just a dream. You should have woken me up right away.”

 

“You need your rest, Jack,” she nuzzled her head against his shoulder before reaching out a hand to trace his face tenderly. “Besides, you always seem to know when I need you without me needing to tell you anyway.”

 

She then pulled him to her for a grateful kiss to which he responded with his calming reassurance that had always helped her to banish any lingering shadows from her mind. It was only after they pulled apart for some air that he noticed she was fully dressed again in her faded riding outfit. He fingered the buttons of the tweed jacket that he remembered from their recent raid of the Fishers’ loft storage when they had been hunting for some suitable gardening clothing.

 

“Planning a twilight expedition, Miss Fisher?”

 

“Again, you know me too well, Inspector. I haven’t heard a sound from any of the human occupants thus far. What say you to a nocturnal tour of our honeymoon establishment, darling?”

 

“Lead on, Mrs Jones.”

 

*-*-*

 

They silently crept their way downstairs and made their way through the side corridor until they reached a door at the end with a simple, wooden sign stating “OFFICE” hanging from the front of the little window. Phryne knelt down, reaching into her decolletage for her lock picks as Jack kept a lookout at the other end of the hall. He was again at her side after a slight click and her waving alerted him to the fact that she had gained entry.

 

The detectives ignored the clutter and began to sift through some of the more hidden areas where they knew people were apt to tuck away more important documents. Before long, Jack signalled with his little torch that he had found something. Phryne quickly returned the documents she had been sifting through to pick her way over to the bookcase had been examining. He shone the light onto a row of non-descript book titles that he moved to reveal a hidden safe. Without a word, she looked about quickly before spotting a mostly empty tumbler on the desk that she emptied into a nearby plant. Jack had moved a box over to provide her with a step up, and steadied her with one hand whilst the other provided her with illumination from his torch. A clock from somewhere in the darkness marked out the seconds as Miss Fisher worked on deciphering the locks.

 

“ _Et voila_ ,” she cried out softly as the door gave way and reached inside as Jack swivelled the light closer. “Look at these, Jack!”

 

He wrapped an arm about her waist just as she prepared to leap off the box. The two then walked over to the window and hovered over her findings as the outside light and torch revealed a folio of the pub’s legal and financial records and a fresh deed of sale. Jack reached for the collection of records as Phryne examined the deed of sale.

 

“According to this, Jack, the previous owner of the pub, when it was still called ‘The King’s Mill’ was a Mr Percival Richards,” her eyes widened suddenly.

 

“It surely can’t be a coincidence then that there is also a Richards employed at Barrowby Hall,” the inspector quickly caught onto her train of thought.

 

“Or at my parents’ estate,” she added, but before she could continue, an odd noise and an unearthly screech outside the window arrested their attention. The two of them flung their documents onto the desk and raced out of the room and towards the kitchen area where they found a back door. As Phryne worked on the lock, Jack peered out the window pane and spotted a shadowy figure crouched over the ground. It appeared that he or she was digging rather frantically.

 

Just as Miss Fisher had managed the lock, she and Jack both froze as they again heard the eerie cry. The intruder also looked up suddenly as the moonlight shone down revealing an older gentleman that neither of them recognised. He then rose to his feet, and looked about cautiously just as a voice rang out clearly into the night’s silence:

 

“By Jove, what are you doing?”

 

The man jumped and sprinted away into the darkness just as Phryne pulled the door open with her golden gun whipped out in front of her. Jack had grabbed a nearby pot hanging on the wall and the two glanced at one another when the voice spoke again.

 

“Oh my, oh me, look at the key.”

 

Phryne held her other hand out against Jack’s chest and lowered her weapon with relief as she turned towards her partner.

 

“Jack, it’s the parrot! Over there in the corner near the big pigeon’s loft.”

 

Jack returned the iron pot to the wall and shone his light out over the fenced in section of the pub’s back garden that revealed what must have been Harry Goodwin’s menagerie.

 

“Oh my, oh me, look at the key.”

 

Miss Fisher stepped out and made her way over towards the area where they had discovered the kneeling nighttime visitor.

 

“By Jove, what are you doing?”

 

“Is there any way to get it to stop?” Jack wondered as he joined his partner where she had crouched down to examine the ground.

 

“Jack, there’s something here. Evidently, Polly, stopped him from recovering whatever it was he was digging for.”

 

The inspector shone his torch about the hole as Phryne continued to sift through some of the disturbed dirt. Her gloved fingers brushed against something slim and hard. She lifted the object up in the semi-darkness to reveal what looked an old-fashioned iron key. Her attention shifted towards the inspector who had just joined her and taken up the abandoned spade to continue unearthing whatever it was the intruder had been either burying or trying to retrieve himself. She took his torchlight from him so he could use both of his hands.

 

“Do you think he was trying to bury it or dig it up?” Phryne asked as she watched Jack once again apply his ample gardening practice.

 

“That’s a very good question, Miss Fisher,” Jack responded just the metal tip of the spade eventually dinged against whatever object was buried about half a foot deep in the Goodwin’s garden. Phryne moved back slightly to give Jack more space as he reached down to remove what looked liked a metal box. Brushing off as much of the soil as he could, Jack passed the small object over and retrieved the torch to allow Phryne to examine the tiny, yet secure lock. She managed to pop it open, and together, they prised the cover open to see what treasure they had just unearthed. Their eyes both widened before swivelling towards the other.

 

“Why, Jack, that’s Lady Cravensworth’s ruby necklace! She wasn’t wearing it the night of the ball, but I would recognise it anywhere!”

 

“And these little amber vials look exactly like...”

 

“The ones that Lisette used, yes,” Phryne agreed. “But, when I spoke to her this morning, Jack, without telling her about the lid we had discovered, of course, she said she had never gone to the ball or any reason to be in the gardens at Barrowby that night. I verified with Buxton and our housekeeper that she had remained at Clarington Court the entire evening.”

 

“If that is true, then someone she knows obviously has access to them. And whatever they contain.”

 

Phryne had continued sifting through the dirt when she noticed something else that had fallen onto the pathway next to the garden allotment. She moved over to pick up a familiar looking envelope.

 

“Jack, this must be the next ransom clue!”

 

He immediately shone his torch onto the yellow parchment as she removed a glove to allow her fingers better access. She removed the card inside and they both read the next riddle silently:

 

 

 **SHERLOCK AND NEFERTITI MIGHT BE AWHILE  
** **  
UNLESS YOU ALONE CAN**

**FIND THE SECRET TO THE NILE**

 

“Is that a direct threat to you and I?” Jack instantly growled. “How dare he insinuate…”

 

“Jack!” She cupped his face and brought his eyes to hers. “Darling, whatever he intended obviously didn’t come to fruition because the kidnapper never knew we would end up staying at the inn tonight. I’m safe. And so are you.”

 

“This is true, Miss Fisher,” he relaxed his clenched hand at the thought of any danger befalling them, but especially to Phryne. “But even so…” he stopped as she quickly grabbed his torch and shone it onto the key she had tucked into her glove for safekeeping.

 

“Jack! We need to telephone Ollington immediately, and get back to Barrowby Hall this very instant!” She began to spring to her feet, leaning over to grab Jack’s hand and pull him up along with her.

 

“What is it, Phryne?” Jack quickly scrambled to close the metal box to prevent any of its contents from escaping.

 

“Hurry, I think I know where to find Moira!”

 

With that, Miss Fisher sprinted back towards the door to the inn with the inspector on her heels. The night’s silence once again stole over the garden except for one final parting cry that floated out after them:

 

“Oh my, oh me, you’ve found the key.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne and Jack race back to Barrowby Hall with hope that they aren't too late to find and save Moira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless you all for your amazing feedback to the last chapter. As I'll be going out the country for several days, hope this penultimate chapter of Phrack's latest undercover adventure will tide you over till I'm back. And as always, thank you for taking the time to read (and especially for letting me know what you think)!

The motorcar’s lamplight beams jolted against every pothole and stone that Phryne was unable to avoid in their haste to retrace the centuries old country lanes. Jack braced himself against the bumpy ride, but kept his other hand firmly on his partner’s leg as he glanced again at the grimace marring her usually joy-filled features.

 

“How I wish I had taken the Phantom after all,” she muttered frantically. “Or if we had the Hispano. Or my aeroplane.”

 

“We’ll get there soon, Phryne,” he responded reassuringly, for once empathising with the desperation she felt for the need for speed. Jack could understand too well why she was pushing herself to solve this case. This girl and her family deserved the chance that Janey tragically never received. “We’ll find her.”

 

Eventually, their vehicle careened through the large iron gates of the Cravensworth estate, and Phryne pushed the gears and stamped on the pedals harder as though doing so could channel her urgency better. They whirled past the carriageway and straight onto the lawn and through the manicured gardens until they reached the maze where she was forced to brake. Lights began to flicker on from inside the mansion just as the sound of sirens echoed from a distance. 

 

“Sounds like Ollington isn’t far behind,” Jack commented as he quickly exited the car. “Phryne! Wait! We need to brief the others first.”

 

“There’s no time, Jack! What if we’re too late already?”

 

“Just another minute and the others will be here,” Jack tried to reason, but she had already disappeared. Cursing out loud, he took note of the direction he last saw her and began to run towards the two police vehicles now just approaching. At least they had seen and followed the haphazard tyre tracks left behind by Phryne’s haste. 

 

“Detective Inspector Robinson!” 

 

Jack shone his own torchlight so they could see him approaching, and headed towards the chief constable’s voice.

 

“Chief Constable Ollington!” He stopped in front of the first police motorcar. “We need some of your men to go immediately notify Lord Cravensworth and his family that we may have apprehended the kidnapper earlier. And Miss Fisher has figured out where he may have been holding his daughter.”

 

“Good lord! Where  _ is _ Miss Fisher?”

 

“She’s already gone ahead, so we need to hurry!”

 

“Right, McDonald, you and Swinton go alert the MacGowans with Inspector Robinson’s update. Davies, you come with us...um, where are we heading exactly, Inspector?”

 

Jack had already turned around. “To the east side of the grounds towards the lake. Tell your men to locate one or two of the under-gardeners to guide them.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Ollington instantly replied. “Miss Fisher mentioned something about a folly on the telephone, Inspector? But, we’ve already searched all the ones on the grounds.”

 

“That’s right, but we need to search every one of them again. But specifically, we need to find the one that’s a replica of a pyramid!”

 

“I wasn’t aware that there was a pyramid one,” Ollington said warily as the inspector’s sense of urgency crept into his own sense of awareness. As the chief constable relayed this extra information to his men, Jack glanced over his shoulder and was satisfied when he saw the senior officer and his constable begin to follow in his direction.

 

“Precisely, that’s why we need to locate it at once!”

 

Fighting against the rising sense of panic gathering inside his gut, the inspector picked up speed and ran with all his might in the direction where he last saw Phryne.

  
  


*-*-*

  
  


Ignoring the burning sensation scorching her lungs, Phryne pushed onward towards Cravensworth Loch. One of the former viscounts had it thus named at some point when absolutely everyone who was anyone had to have their own lake installed onto their ridiculously expansive grounds. As the pain threatened to overtake her breathing all together, she gave in and leaned over with her hands on her knees, gulping in as much oxygen as she could manage. Glancing behind her, she allowed herself a tiny smile as she looked back towards where she had last heard Jack’s commanding tone issue out into the night before pushing on again. She knew he would catch up with her shortly because he always did.

 

Using her unfailing night vision and the occasional glimmer of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds, the lady detective arrived eventually at the edge of the lake. She peered through the darkness towards the ornate dock that was devoid of any mooring boat. How were they supposed to cross over to the island?

 

Closing her eyes, Phryne again reviewed her memories to recall a particular moment during a school holiday when both she and Catriona had returned from their boarding school. Both girls had been chafing under being placed back under strict restrictions at home again until Phryne had mentioned her secret pagoda hideaway. She then recalled the other girl’s smug countenance upon their return to school. Demanding to know her neighbour’s secret, Catriona had thanked Phryne for inspiring her to establish her own similar getaway.

 

“Thanks to you, Phryne, I now have my own secret place too,” Catriona had confided. “John and I have already made excellent use of it. I just have to make sure Rupert doesn’t find out or he’ll want to use it too.”

 

“Does he know where or how to find it? It needs to be hidden well,” Phryne had admonished the other girl.

 

“Already taken care of. It even has its own key,” and she had proceeded to slip the old-fashioned iron object from her handbag to eagerly show her friend. “And...it's own secret bridge. Good thing John isn’t completely useless when it comes to an axe,” Catriona had added smugly. 

 

_ Of course, Catriona’s bridge!  _

 

Phryne tore off her hat and tossed it to the ground for Jack to find before bursting back into a sprint. She began to skirt the lake and followed the path into a thick copse of trees where the grounds were left to grow more wildly. She leapt over a few fallen logs and continued on, ignoring the branches and thorns ripping into her clothing and against her skin, mindful to keeping the water to her right. As the woods darkened even further from the overgrown branches, she finally stopped at a juncture where the land was closest to the little isle. There, still bearing the jagged marks of an eager, yet inexperienced axeman, was a felled trunk that still spanned the ten or so feet of water. 

 

Nudging it with her booted foot, the log gave way slightly, but was sturdy enough for the adventuress who quickly climbed on top and gingerly balanced her way about halfway across the water. Due to years of weather and disuse, however, the dirt from the ide of the bank she had just left behind began to shift beneath her weight causing the tree trunk to wobble. Phryne ran towards the other end still anchored to the island and lunged herself across to dry land just as the log dislodged itself and sank at an awkward angle still attached to this side of the water. She quickly rolled into her fall and remained crouched low to find her bearings.

 

Glancing through the collection of trees on this side of the little island, she glanced up at the large shadow looming before until her eyes reached the top of its symmetrical point. The pyramid folly. She had found it. Remaining hunched over, Phryne crept around the side towards the front of the crumbling structure until she spotted its entrance and halted. The door gaped wide open. 

 

She tilted her head to listen. Not hearing anything other than the lapping of the water and her own breathing, the lady detective carefully made her way closer and stepped inside into the semi- darkness due to the architect adding a few window slits high above her head. Blinking rapidly, she quickly saw traces of someone’s recent presence as she took in an untidy mattress against one side of the structure with its filthy covers flung along the floor. Her foot kicked against a hard object that she bent down to investigate. It was  a plate filled with what looked like bread crusts. Glancing across the sandy floor, she spotted several, familiar-looking empty glass vials and their tiny corkscrew lids littered across the sandy ground.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Moira! We’re too late!” The overwhelming sense of foreboding she had been fighting off since her vivid dreams from earlier began to suffocate her senses. She sank to the floor fighting the familiar sense of grief and failure. 

 

“I’d say you’re just in time, Nefertiti,” a chilling voice suddenly responded from behind her as rough hands encircled her neck and pried open her mouth. Before she could react, she felt a glass tube jammed into her mouth and her hair being yanked back hard, causing some of the contents to rush down her throat. “I had this especially created for you and your inspector. But, waste not want not, you’ll have to enjoy it all.” 

 

At the mention of Jack, Miss Fisher quickly snapped out of her shock and spat out the vial and what she could of the liquid whilst slamming her elbow back against whatever part of her attacker she could reach. He swore loudly and immediately released her before disappearing back out the door behind them. She hunched over briefly, spitting out more of what she could of the vial’s contents before swinging around to chase after the man. But, the few traces of whatever it was that she had ingested had begun to do its work. Bracing herself against the side of the folly, she caught a glimpse of the attacker just as her limbs began to feel heavier. It was the same man that she and Jack had spotted digging in the garden at The Old Reindeer! And he was climbing into a rowboat that was tied to the isle’s dock on the other side of the pyramid. 

 

“Nooo, let me go,” a female voice suddenly cried out weakly from somewhere inside the boat. 

 

“Moira!” Phryne tried to call out as she felt herself collapsing despite her attempts to fight the intense nausea and dizziness steadily overtaking her. She needed to remain alert. She had to get to the girl. 

 

Suddenly, a set of strong, albeit soaking wet arms enclosed themselves around her holding her up against him. She immediately sagged in relief despite the frantic tone of his voice.

 

“Phryne!”

 

“Gone for a shwim, Inspectorrr?” Her words began to slur.

 

“Only because someone destroyed the only bloody bridge to this wretched place!” He quickly placed her gently on the ground and leaned her against the side of the pyramid. “Phryne, stay awake! Stay with me, love!” He gently held her head steady.

 

“Ja-aaack...the boat. Stop. Boat. Save Moir-raaa....”

 

“No, let me go!” The inspector instantly turned to squint through the darkness when he heard an unfamiliar plaintive cry reach them through the trees. Jack whipped out his torchlight and registered the little vessel that was now moving away from the dock.

 

Leaning over to plant a quick kiss against her forehead, Jack jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry, Phryne, I’ll be right back for you! Please try to stay awake!”

 

A flurry of sounds all jumbled together at once. She heard Ollington and Davies’ familiar voices yelling from somewhere nearby, whistles blowing, Moira screaming, and a loud splash of water as someone dove into the lake. She desperately tried to heed Jack’s request and blinked hard, trying to stay conscious, at least until he could return as he promised. 

 

Try as she might her thoughts also gradually began to merge as the voices became muffled, and she could only hear the sounds of two little girls singing and giggling. Tears began to seep out of her eyes, but she was unable to lift her hand to wipe them away. 

 

_ Janey _ , her heart cried out. _ I’m still so sorry that I couldn’t find you in time. Now, I’m afraid I’ve been too late again. _

 

Then, all other sounds slowly faded away. 

 

But for one. 

 

The one voice that would always anchor her no matter what.

 

“We found her, Phryne,” he rasped out as his arms once again enveloped her, instantly soothing her hazy senses. “Moira’s safe now, thanks to you.”

 

“No, Jaack,” she managed to breathe into his ear, “thankss...to...usss. ‘Member...better to-gggether.” 

 

“Always, Miss Fisher.”

 

She then faintly felt the press of his warm lips against hers before darkness and silence finally managed to rob her of all consciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack reviews the case as he waits for Phryne to wake up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, I'm now back from my travels, and apparently, there's more to tell to this story! So looks like there will be another chapter or two on top of what I had originally intended. What can I say, Phrack fluff (and a bit of case work) always deserves a chapter of its own!

His mind fought to separate the lingering memory of a parrot’s preternatural voice from that of the infernal cuckoo clock’s mechanical cries that refused to be muted from the other side of the closed door. But, these weren’t the sounds that had plucked Jack Robinson from his sleep. Even before the clock had struck its final chime, the inspector had instantly awoken from another sound. One that beckoned to him at a much deeper level. To prove he hadn’t imagined it, another unmistakable cry escaped from the figure who had begun to thrash about on the bed where he had been keeping vigil before nodding off himself. 

 

“Phryne! Shhh,” he whispered in his most soothing tone as he reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly, yet gently. “It’s just a bad dream. It’s not real, shhhh.” 

 

He shook his head briefly at the feeling of deja vu that suddenly assailed him. Had it really been just earlier that night since he had similarly reassured her from her haunted slumber back at the inn? The fact that he was repeating them now only augmented the simmering combination of guilt and fear that had been gnawing at him since he had finally reached Phryne at the folly. He knew he shouldn’t hold himself to blame for what the abductor had done to her, and was thanking every deity above and under the sun that the perpetrator hadn’t done permanent or worst damage. He knew (and gods help him) that he would always love her for the fact that she would continue to throw herself so utterly and completely into her causes, especially when it meant someone else’s life was at stake. But, that also meant that he would still always feel this overly protective of her just as she was so protective of him.

 

At the sound of his voice and as though she could sense his turmoil, her whimpering immediately ended on a hum, and she flipped over towards him whilst still asleep with outstretched hands. Her arms and fingers wrapped themselves like living vines around whatever part of him they could reach. Trying not to chuckle out loud, Jack gingerly unwound one arm from across his forehead before rising from the chair he had dragged to the side of the bed earlier. Kicking off his shoes, he then lifted the covers and climbed up next to her. He gently slipped his own arm around her now still frame before readjusting her other arm so it nestled against his chest where he cradled it against his heart. 

 

Nuzzling his chin against the top of her head, Jack focused on the sound of her breathing as it evened out before resuming his earlier reflections. Even though she would argue with him for doing so, he chided himself for nodding off and giving in momentarily to the exhaustion that had nearly prevented him from his promise to keep watch over her. Promises to himself as well as to the distraught baroness who had been visibly reluctant to leave the side of her only remaining daughter after the inspector had brought Phryne safely back to Clarington Court only a few hours earlier. 

 

“You must send for me the moment there are any changes in her condition,” Margaret had insisted Jack promise her, gripping his hand tightly and pinning him with an all too familiar, imploring look that usually resulted in his capitulation. “Or when she wakes up again.”  

 

“I promise, Lady Fisher,” Jack had solemnly given his word just as Henry had insisted that his wife return to their own quarters to rest. 

 

Upon their return to her family’s estate, Buxton had answered the door before Constable Davies had even moved the heavy, large knocker. Jack pushed on past, carrying Miss Fisher up the main staircase when he saw Lord and Lady Fisher hovering together on the landing. No doubt, the trusted butler had roused his lordship after Chief Constable Ollington had telephoned earlier informing him of the night’s events. The policeman had also requested that two of the household’s servants, specifically, their chauffeur and lady’s maid, please be awoken and available for questioning by one of his constables shortly. 

 

In the midst of her parents’ audible and visible dismay after the inspector had reached the landing, Phryne had then roused long enough to sluggishly, yet adamantly insist on being taken to Jack’s suite instead of her own rooms. Jack didn’t hesitate to turn down the hall towards the guest wing even though Margaret was perturbed. He could sense the woman’s nearly uncontainable concerns over her daughter’s drugged state and brewing questions that his brief summary and their servants’ being questioned by the police must have triggered. But in the end, Phryne had her way as per usual, and so, Jack had continued his tale as the Fishers hastened after him as he made his way to his suite.

 

After being examined earlier by the MacGowan family’s personal physician who had been rushed to Barrowby by one of the constables, the man had concluded that both Moira and Miss Fisher had been drugged with a potent, yet crude sleeping draught.

 

“From what remains in this vial, I surmise it to contain traces of Valerian and something containing alcoholic content. Lab reports will confirm the exact substances, of course.”

 

“You’re absolutely sure it doesn’t contain something poisonous, Doctor?”

 

“Having observed both patients thus far, and doing a very preliminary test of the vial, I do not detect anything toxic, Inspector. In fact, Valerian has traditionally been used to create herbal remedies that treat various ailments such as mild pain, fever, and sleeping disorders.” 

 

“So, an increased dose could render someone unconscious for longer periods of time?” Jack had asked. 

 

“Yes, Inspector. Valerian has been proven to slow down the central nervous system. Alcohol can interact with the extract to cause prolonged sleepiness and drowsiness.”

 

“But, are there any serious side effects?” Lord Cravensworth had interjected at that point as he had digested the physician’s words silently up to this point.

 

“Not that I’m aware of, my lord, since Valerian is mostly botanically-based. The drowsiness may linger, but it’s nothing that some rest and proper nutrition can’t reduce. It is not known to be poisonous.”

 

Knowing that both Moira and Miss Fisher had not been poisoned badly, Jack had still been prepared to spend the night by Phryne’s temporary bedside at Barrowby. But, the lady detective had other ideas. Everyone had been more than relieved when she had regained consciousness briefly and long enough to confirm that Moira was indeed safely recovered and resting in her own bed again. Afterwards, Phryne had then insisted on being taken back to Clarington Court immediately, which Jack had complied with after the doctor had agreed that it was safe to move her.

 

“She will probably rest better in her own bed,” the physician had remarked.

 

“Miss Fisher always knows her own mind,” Jack had conceded. 

 

Constable Davies had then been duly commissioned to ensure that the inspector and lady detective were safely delivered back to the Fisher estate. After delivering Miss Fisher to his suite and leaving her to be tended by her  mother and a sleepy maid, Jack had accompanied Henry back downstairs. His lordship had disappeared with Buxton to seek some “fortification”, leaving the inspector to accompany and assist the constable in his interview with the two selected servants in the library. Afterwards, Adam Richards departed with Constable Davies back to Chard police station, and Lisette Laurent was free to flee back upstairs to attend her mistress and miss. 

 

Jack’s train of thoughts was upended when it would seem that sleep was no longer claiming Miss Fisher either as he felt her hand reach up to brush through the now unruly hair across his forehead. Turning his head towards her, he savoured that distinctive moment that he felt would never change whenever he was confronted by her beautiful blue orbs gazing intently at him.

 

“Miss Fisher,” he softly rumbled.

 

“Inspector,” she managed hoarsely with a slightly sleepy smile. “Where are we? What time is it?”

 

“Well, according to the Sherwood Forest Suite mascot, it must be about quarter past or half five in the morning.”

 

“Moira?”

 

“Is safely back in the care of her incredibly grateful family,” he was quick to assure her. “The doctor said that apart from a few surface bruises from being dragged on and off that little island, she should be right as rain once the Valerien wears off completely. As should you.”

 

“Is that what the vial contained? It tasted horrible, Jack!” He quickly ran the back of his hand down down the side of her cheek when he saw her scrunched up expression.

 

“Ollington’s lab reports will hopefully reveal the exact traces of that concoction. But, from what the doctor could tell, it was a mixture of Valerian, chamomile, hops and, I’m estimating, some highly fermented bootleg alcohol that knocked you out so quickly.” Now it was her turn to caress his face in efforts to remove the grimace off of his features.

 

“Jack, it wasn’t your fault, darling,” she immediately chided him as he knew she would. Her fierce loyalty warmed him from deep down and bloomed into a lopsided smile.

 

“I should have been there with you sooner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “To cover your back so you wouldn’t have been attacked unawares by that...that…” he stopped as she brushed several fingers across his lips.

 

“You did get there in time, Jack!” She emphasised her statement by exchanging her fingers with her lips. “But, who was he? He’s been the missing puzzle piece, hasn’t he?” Even in the room’s semi-darkness, she could tell by the slight shift of his head that he had nodded, the stubble on his strong chin creating delicious frissons against her cheek.

 

“His name is Percival. Percival Richards.”

 

“You mean…”

 

“Yes, the former owner of The Old Reindeer,” he tightened his arm around her when she tensed. “And the father of Ian Richards, footman at Barrowby Hall. And Adam Richards, your family’s chauffeur.”

 

Jack could hear the cogs working inside her head, Valerian cocktail notwithstanding.

 

“And Lisette?”

 

“Had the misfortune of being duped by her future brother-in-law into making what she thought were sleeping draughts to aid in her fiance’s father’s arthritis. Only, the bastard was using them to create them into even more potent substances for his intended victims.” Now, it was Phryne’s turn to soothe when she felt her partner tense up.

 

“So, were his sons in on the whole thing then?”

 

“Actually, from what I could tell, I don’t believe Adam was aware of what was going on. As for Ian, we’ll know more in the morning after Ollington updates us following their interrogations. For now, they’re both spending time getting acquainted with the charms of Chard station’s cell. Adam had requested to accompany Davies back so he could see his father especially. He was worried about his health and seemed genuinely shocked by the news of his arrest.”

 

“Rather devoted son, or someone adept at trying to cover his tracks,” Phryne agreed, although she trusted Jack’s instincts when it came to people just as he’d always trusted hers. 

 

Suddenly, she cried out in complaint as a whoosh of cold air assaulted her silk night dress when Jack sat up and was flipping back his side of the covers. It was then that she realised he was mostly still dressed.

 

“And just where do you think you’re going, Inspector?”

 

“I promised your mother that I would alert her right away as soon as you woke up,” he leaned over to give her an apologetic kiss before tucking her back inside the luxurious covers. She quickly freed her arms to tug his head back down again closer to hers.

 

“Well, at least you know better than to go against the wishes of a Fisher female.”

 

“That’s because I’ve always seen the value of pursuits that will expand my lifespan, Miss Fisher,” he acquiesced with a roguish kiss, “not the opposite.”

 

“Glad to hear it, Inspector.”

 

After a few more ardent moments of strengthening both their heart rates, Jack pulled away reluctantly. He straightened up, executed a gentlemanly bow, and slowly made his way from the room. At the door, he turned and smirked in response to her impish grin before closing it behind him...for now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaret Fisher's worry over Phryne's condition helps her to reflect about her thoughts actions from the past and present, especially where it concerns her daughter and a certain detective inspector.

Lady Margaret Fisher, Baroness of Richmond-Upon-Thames, shivered slightly against the early morning’s chill on her ornate, Chippendale crafted “throne” as her husband often referred to her favourite chaise. In fact, she was inordinately attached to the exquisite antique out of the entire suite of furniture gracing the Queen Elizabeth Parlour. Throughout the years, she had established the space as her personal sanctuary ever since she had first stepped through its beautifully-panelled doors during her first days of assuming her unexpected role as mistress of the manor. 

Here, she had been able to find solace from those first exciting, yet somewhat intimidating weeks and months of learning how to balance on the new societal tightrope that she found herself clinging to as soon as they had received the news of Henry’s inherited title and wealth. This was where she often retreated whilst navigating a new country, a new home (she wasn’t as fond of the townhouse in London), and a completely new way of life. At least Margaret had been able to rely on her fine upbringing as a high society debutante from one of Melbourne’s long-standing families. Her mind went back to when everyone, especially her parents, had counted on her landing an even more advantageous marriage than her older sister, Prudence, who had done well enough in her own right for marrying into the Stanley wealth and standing. It was the life she had been bred for, and what everyone expected, especially since it was no secret that she had inherited their mother’s famed beauty. And so, Margaret had dutifully soaked up all the right graces, and gloried in being the belle of every ball where every handsome gentleman had eagerly sought to be inscribed onto her dance card.

“Every man will try to sweep you off your feet, my darling,” Mother had regularly admonished her. “But, hold out for the one who will be able to make you a proper lady.”  


Margaret knew back then that she was destined for an aristocratic match, at the very least. But, she had decided to throw her fate away to the wind. And all because of one waltz. Ironically, her mother’s words and expectations became an accidental reality in the end. The baroness only hoped it was not too late when it came to the only things, the people that still really mattered to her.

She stared unseeing into the fire as her mother’s words echoed bittersweetly through her mind’s eye. Sadly, her parents never lived to see the happily ever after that they had always wanted for their beautiful, youngest girl. Instead, they went to their graves still ashamed of how she had scandalised them all with her unexpected elopement. Margaret blinked against the tears of those subsequent years when she had tried so desperately to hide the reality of how low her life had sank after that. How Prudence had done her best to intervene, especially for the girls’ sake, in spite of Henry’s jealousy and anger at her interference. Of how she had not done more herself to protect them from the horrible abuse and poverty that had gripped them all. She would forever be ashamed of how she had simply given up and given into the numbness that kept her in bed for days, weeks, and years, before and after Janey’s abduction. 

Indeed, these walls had held silent witness to an endless deluge of tears that she still secretly shed at the loss of those years and whenever she remembered her baby girl, who was so cruelly taken from her. It was also the place where she could unleash her anger over her husband’s regular antics or her frustration over the ever-widening gap between her and her daughter who had ensured the distance would be guaranteed when she had decided to stay in Melbourne. But, she had never let anyone see the gaping and bleeding holes of her pain, both internally or externally, throughout those years. Just as she still hid them well now, from her husband. And from her daughter. 

She knew that following her ill-advised marriage, she had gone from being a ray of sunshine and developed the reputation of being a cold woman. And this personification had, unfortunately, remained intact. It was for the best, however, Margaret had consoled herself, even though the guilt still ate at her for not doing more to be there for her children during those especially darker years. And especially after dear Janey disappeared. She simply didn’t know how to connect with her eldest, and in the midst of her ongoing grief, Margaret knew it would never make up for how she had ended up alienating and essentially abandoning her daughter. Her only remaining child. She wanted to be able to connect to the vibrant woman that Phryne had become in spite of it all. Despite their ongoing estrangement and their most recent disagreement over her daughter’s choices in men. Even so, the baroness continued to hide behind her icy mask.

Only, the facade had begun to crack and melt as a result of recent events and the news of young Moira’s abduction. It didn’t matter that it had been years or that they now knew the tragic fate of her darling Janey. Her neighbour’s fears and anxieties had unleashed Margaret’s own demons again, and she found she could not cope. And then, realising just how close she had come to losing Phryne again, both emotionally, yet especially physically, it was simply too much. So, she had forgone her ridiculous pride and prejudices that this new life had forced her to adapt, and she had lowered her shields in the early hours of the night. 

She had begged the inspector to alert her of any and all changes in her daughter’s condition when she had reluctantly left her behind to his keeping. In her heart of hearts, first as a mother, and as a woman, she knew that she could trust this man explicitly just as she knew Phryne did. It went beyond their obvious mutual attraction and affection for one another. From what Margaret had been able to perceive in the short days of their visit, and whatever the official status of their relationship, there was no denying their deep connection to the other. 

Frankly, she had become envious of it and sought to destroy it, she now remorsefully admitted to herself. It was part of the reason why she had been so eager to agree to the MacGowans’ strong desire to formalise some sort of an arrangement between their two families. It was certainly the motivation behind her blind willingness to agree to Rupert’s farcical scheme to discredit the inspector. She honestly had no idea what the usually charming young man had been planning to do or that the upstart would actually somehow acquire her very own jewels to do so. It was more than she could bear to have to look Jack Robinson in the eye, especially now, after all he had done to help with the investigations and to help recover both Moira and Phryne and to bring them safely home.

A sturdy knock at the door stirred her from her penitent thoughts only to bring her face-to-face with the very man himself. She fought to fight the flood of shame and embarrassment from flooding her face as she stood and cleared her throat before greeting him.

“Inspector Robinson,” she extended her arm towards one of the plush arm chairs adjacent to her own seat, “please, come in.”

“Good morning, Lady Fisher,” he responded neutrally, although his eyes betrayed a mixture of wariness, and something else, perhaps a flash of sympathy as he entered the room a few steps. But, he remained standing. “As promised, I simply came to inform you that Miss Fisher is now awake. Lisette was tending to her just as I left and informed me that I could find you here.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Margaret responded with genuine gratitude as the two remained standing and assessing the other during a few seconds of awkward silence. Jack then gave her a deep nod before slowly turning to retrace his steps back towards the guest wing, when Margaret’s soft voice stopped him.

“I mean it, Jack,” she said, uttering his given name for the very first time with an intonation that could replicate that of her daughter’s. “I will be forever grateful to you for helping to prevent my friends from having to experience the hell that we have been forced to endure. And, I also owe you a long overdue, unpayable note of gratitude for helping to discover what happened to my...my precious Janey.”

Again, as though sensing that words were unnecessary, especially the usual phrases he would find himself delivering to a victim’s family, Jack remained silent, but let his eyes respond in kind. He knew that recent events had taken a monumental toll on Phryne’s mother, and understood all too well what it meant to have to confront nightmarish demons from the past.

“And,, although I know my words are inadequate, please, accept my sincerest apologies for the less than warm reception I have extended to you since your arrival. My actions...and words have been inexcusable, even though I just didn’t want my daughter to make the same mistakes I did. Of being blinded by love,” the baroness’ words trailed off as she moved her gaze from the fireplace and pinned him with the glimmer of a mischievous smile. “Although, I will freely admit that Phryne has certainly chosen best for herself...as per usual.”

At this unexpected, yet candid admission, Jack couldn’t help allowing his expression to break into a conspiratorial nod and half-grin. 

“I, for one, would certainly never question her freedom to do so, Lady Fisher.”

“Which is precisely why he and I make such a perfect team,” Phryne’s amused voice rang out from behind his shoulder. 

Both the inspector and baroness swivelled their eyes towards the door as Miss Fisher ambled into the room dressed in a pair of her elegant, black trousers and a pastel apricot-coloured silk blouse. Although her face was still devoid of any cosmetics, her mother and partner would have noticed the purplish tinges beneath her eyes and the slight sluggishness that still marked her movements and slower than usual pace. Margaret noted with silent approval how Jack’s eyes regarded her with a mixture of slight awe mingled with devotion before he imperceptibly moved towards Phryne in a way that showed his ready support and assistance without crowding her. The older woman also noted the brief, yet familiar expression of defiance that flashed across her daughter’s features before quickly becoming replaced by one of obvious joy as Phryne reached out to curl her hand around the inspector’s upper arm.

“Indeed,” Lady Fisher agreed. “I was just thanking the inspector for all that he has done to help the MacGowans. And for what how he helped you, and our family, with...with Janey. I realise now that I also never thanked you as well, Phryne. For returning to Melbourne and never giving up. For doing what you could until you found answers.”

Margaret paused as tears gathered in her eyes, but she refused to look away from her daughter’s startled yet steady gaze. Phryne glanced at Jack as she contemplated the significance of her mother’s admission, and he gave her a supportive nod and squeeze to her hand. Miss Fisher then let go of his arm and slowly stepped over towards her mother who had now returned to staring into the fire again. She looked up in surprise at her daughter’s approach, but with a hopeful expression of anticipation as Phryne knelt down next to her mother’s chaise and took one of the baroness’ fidgeting hands into her own steady one.

“We’ve all done what we can in our own ways to come to terms with our past,” she spoke softly, yet with her usual reassurance. “We continue to survive, yes. But, as one extremely wise person once kindly reminded me, it’s also why we owe it to those whom we have lost to continue living each day we have fully.” She glanced over her shoulder to give Jack a grateful smile to which his lips tilted upward as they both remembered his words to her nearly a year ago now.

Margaret’s tears spilled in earnest now although she still remained silent and gripped her daughter’s hand tightly.

“You can’t change what has happened, Mother. But, you still have the choice to change how you react to the present. You owe that much to yourself.”

“Oh, Phryne,” her mother finally burst out. “I-I’m so sorry...for everything!” 

Phryne responded by wrapping her arms around the older woman’s shaking frame, just as Jack quietly slipped out the door. He wanted to give Miss Fisher some privacy as it now seemed that perhaps some of the barriers between the two women might finally have the opportunity of crumbling. The inspector knew all too well the toll that victims’ loved ones often carried in terms of guilt and blame for surviving such horrible tragedies. They weren’t too dissimilar from those of everyone who had returned from the war, unfortunately. If anyone could help Margaret Fisher begin to recover from her own tortured past, it would be Phryne.

Jack began to make his way back in the direction of his suite with the intention of freshening up and changing his clothes. Approaching the top of the main staircase, Jack nodded towards the family’s butler who was making his way up the steps.

“Good morning, Mr Buxton,” he greeted the older man and was about to continue on his way down the corridor. 

“Wait, Inspector Robinson!” Jack paused at the man’s tone and turned around to see the servant hustle towards him.

“Your presence is required downstairs, sir,” Buxton huffed out as he caught his breathe. “In the library.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir, Chief Constable Ollington has just arrived asking for you and Lord Fisher. He is accompanied by Richards. The chauffeur,” Buxton explained as though Jack might have forgotten who the other man was.

“Of course, I shall be right down.” The inspector glanced down at his wrinkly clothes and frowned.

“I’ve already laid out a new suit for you in your room. Would you like any assistance with getting dressed, sir?”

“No, thank you, Mr Buxton, I think I will manage just fine on my own.” 

“Very good, sir, although, if I may, I would advise you to hurry,” the butler continued, “as it would seem Richards is wearing handcuffs.”

Jack tried not to roll his eyes at this extra detail before making another request. “When convenient, could you also please make Miss Fisher aware of where I will be...and why? And for her to please join us if possible?”

At the butler’s nod and slight bow, Jack turned and hoped that his usually strong stamina would continue to hold out against what looked like another eventful day. As he reached his suite, his stomach chose that moment to loudly echo his sentiments.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detectives gather for the final briefing where all the seemingly random puzzle pieces begin to come together...only to discover one final one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your ongoing patience, my lovelies, but the end is nigh (and now all written, you may be glad to learn)! 
> 
> Things have been extra busy this summer with lots of travelling (both for work and pleasure, don't worry). Also, I've recently been dealing with the unexpected and tragic loss of someone in my life, which has made the song lyrics that I based this story on hit very close to home. May you embrace all those you love ever so much more closely today whilst you still have their hand to hold.
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your wonderful comments and feedback. I hope you enjoy this one and the epilogue that I will post shortly.

“Ah, Jack, do come in, come in,” Henry Fisher waved him in as soon as the footman at the library door announced him. “Could do with your expertise since it would seem we’ve found ourselves in a bit of another conundrum.”

The baron rolled his eyes and tilted his head in mingled mock and authentic exasperation towards their guests that his daughter would have enjoyed informing him could have rivalled any that Inspector Robinson was the master of dispensing himself. With a slight nod, Jack made his way over towards the assembled group in his usually confident, yet relaxed stride, heading towards an empty chair where he could smell the plate of fruit scones even before he had spied them. Henry grinned at him openly before addressing the others in a tone less jovial than usual.

“So, now that the inspector is here, Ollington, why don’t you fill us in on why you had to drag us all out of our beds at such an ungodly hour…again,” Lord Fisher’s arched eyebrow punctuated his words.

It was then that Jack looked up from drenching his scone in blackcurrant jam that he noticed Henry was still wearing a dressing gown, and glaring between the chief constable and then at his very anxiety-ridden chauffeur. The baron continued his little tirade.

“Instead of waiting until we’ve managed to recover from your constable’s arrival only a few hours ago. You could have telephoned for someone to pick Richards up later.”

“Well, Lord Fisher,” Chief Constable Ollington began succinctly. “That is precisely the reason why I have had to come at once…following Mr Richards’ recent confession whilst we were already enroute from the station, in fact.”

“Confession? To what crime, exactly?” Jack couldn’t help querying as his innate sense of duty warred with his hand’s desire to continue bringing the delectable morsel closer to his mouth. He inwardly groaned as honour won out, yet again, and he placed the baked good back onto his plate reluctantly in order to offer the situation his full attention.

“Mr Richards has insisted on being able to give his statement directly to you, Lord Fisher, and to you, Inspector Robinson. So, I felt he deserved the opportunity to do so.”

“Perhaps he ought to include obstruction of a police officer’s right to some sustenance,” a familiar voice interjected in an amused tone. “Which is a particular offence when aforementioned officer is actually off duty…and completely out of jurisdiction.”

“Phryne!” her father admonished as he jumped to his feet. “Whatever are you doing out of bed? You ought to be resting, my dear!”

“I’m right as rain, Father,” she quipped back in a low tone that Jack instantly recognised was laced with multiple warnings. “Thank you for your concern.”

Thankfully, her father also recognised it and remained uncharacteristically silent as she sauntered over and perched on the arm of the inspector’s armchair. Arching gracefully over towards the coffee table, she promptly rescued Jack’s abandoned plate and delivered it to him before leaning an arm affectionately across the back of his chair and tickling the wisps of hair behind one of his ears. Her movements flooded Jack’s senses with a fresh waft of her perfume as he quickly allowed himself a quick bite. With a fond expression, Phryne then crossed her legs and began to swing the top one smartly back and forth as she returned her attention to the other policeman.

“You were saying, Chief Constable?”

“Of course, Miss Fisher, thank you,” Ollington resumed smoothly without missing a beat as though he hadn’t already been interrupted for the umpteenth time. But his charge wasn’t having any of it.

“Bollocks to this!”

Adam Richards suddenly burst out as he jumped to his feet unexpectedly. Ollington and Jack followed suit. The latter servant of the law quickly glanced down next to him to ensure his sudden movement hadn’t thrown her off balance from the edge of the chair. Jack knew Phryne’s recent bout with the Valerian cocktail could have dulled her usually pristine perfect reflexes, and how much this would grate on her fiercely. She returned his unspoken question with a quick, reassuring smile and soft pat to his leg before darting her eyes over to her father who remained seated with a stony expression.

“Now, do calm down, Mr Richards, no need for anything sudden. Otherwise, I will have no choice, but to remove you immediately.”

The chief constable’s words quickly deflated the chauffeur, who sank back into his chair with an air of forlorn defeat. Ollington and Jack also followed suit as all eyes remained fastened onto the chauffeur expectantly.

“I-I…er, wanted the opportunity to explain in person, you see,” the earlier frustration turned into intense nervousness as the reality of the situation dawned on the young man too late, causing him to flush profusely. “About her ladyship’s jewels, I mean.”

Jack quickly looked to Ollington and proceeded to prod the younger man after the other policeman nodded his willingness for the inspector to take over.

“Mr Richards, are you referring to Lady Margaret Fisher’s jewels? Or someone else’s jewellery?”

“N-no. Um, yes, I meant Lady Fisher’s, sir,” Adam stammered miserably. “I took them when Lisette was serving her ladyship her breakfast in bed. But, Lisette didn’t know. And then, I slipped them into your suit when I laid out your clothing that morning, Inspector.”

“The morning after the engagement ball?” Jack quickly confirmed as he processed the younger man’s words and what this meant. “And was Lisette part of this illicit plan?”

“No, sir!” the other man adamantly stated. “She had nothing to do with any of this, the jewels or the nasty business with her concoctions either.”

The chief constable cleared his throat pointedly and glared at the chauffeur to get back on track.

“But, yes, sir, Inspector, I stole the jewels and placed them into your clothing the morning after you had all returned from the engagement ball.”

“But, why, lad?” Henry suddenly burst out. “After all we did to place you here and give you a position? What possessed you…”

“Adam,” Phryne broke in with a scowl aimed at her father. “Who influenced you to do this? It sounds like you were forced to do so against your wishes?”

“Yes, Miss Fisher” he turned back towards her and the inspector. “I had to do it, you see. He forced me to. He said that he would have Father arrested and Ian sacked. I couldn’t let that happen! Father’s been so ill!” The chauffeur buried his face against his still bound hands.

“What the devil!” Henry began just as Phryne stood. She ignored the baron and skirted the coffee table until she was next to Adam and bent slightly to lay her hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Adam,” she said in her most soothing tone. “Who told you your father would have been arrested if you hadn’t taken Lady Fisher’s jewels? Was it also their idea for you to place them into Inspector Robinson’s pockets that morning?”

“Y-yes! He told me that if I didn’t do it, he’d have father arrested for one of his latest gambling offenses. And he’d sack Ian. Then he said he’d make sure that I lost my job…and my reputation. And then, he said I’d lose Lisette! He said I’d never be able to marry Lisette!”

“Mr Richards,” Jack interjected before the chauffeur completely broke down. “Who threatened you and said that he would do all this?”

“It-it w-was... Rupert MacGowan, sir,” Adam finally admitted in the midst of his distress. “He tried to bribe me into doing it at first, but after I refused, he threatened me. He said that no one, especially the police, would ever believe me if I tried to tell anyone or to ignore him. And now, Father has been arrested anyway.” He again buried his head into his hands as Miss Fisher again touched his arm in comfort.

She looked over at Jack who then turned his gaze over towards Henry with a raised eyebrow. The baron again rolled his eyes before rubbing them tiredly as he stood to his feet.

“Look, here, my lad,” his employer stated, this time in a softer tone. “This is all a nasty business, what with the MacGowan girl going missing, and then all this nonsense over Margaret’s jewels. Frankly, I’m tired of it all, and just want it to be all over. I can’t speak for the inspector, of course, but, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not about to press any charges.”

“No, neither will I,” Jack agreed, “although I hope you are more than aware that conspiring to provide false evidence against an innocent person or being an accessory to do so is a very serious crime. I’m certain that would be the case in this country as it is in mine.”

“Oh, it certainly is very serious, Inspector Robinson,” Chief Constable Ollington responded quite sternly. “So much so that I think another night back at the station, and on the other side of the cells, ought to impress this fact very clearly into your mind, Mr Richards.”

“Just don’t bring him back in the middle of the night or the crack of dawn,” Henry waved them away before he made his way towards the door. “I’ll wait to hear about the latest updates on the other case later today after I’ve had some decent shut-eye.”

“Certainly, my lord, thank you for your cooperation on this latest matter.” Lord Fisher raised his hand in a half-hearted gesture of acknowledgement as he trudged out of the library and presumably back to his bed chambers.

Phryne rolled her eyes at Jack before quickly snatching the second half of his second drop scone.

“And, now I am on my way to question Mr Rupert MacGowan myself after I meet with his parents on the latest that has come to light from the abduction case. I was wondering whether or not you would like to join me at Barrowby Hall now for this update, Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson?”

Licking the last of the crumbs off her fingers, Miss Fisher jumped to her feet and managed to hide the slight sway from all, but her extremely observant partner, especially where she was concerned.

“Excellent idea, Chief Constable! We shall be right behind you.” Satisfied with her response, Ollington turned and lead the penitent Adam Richards out of the room and into the hallway where Constable Davies had been waiting.

Before Phryne could follow, Jack reached out how to grasp her chin and look into her eyes, his own taking audit of her features that remained bright despite her recent ordeal.

“Seeing how you are now without a chauffeur, Miss Fisher, might I offer my assistance?”

“Well, Inspector, seeing how you asked so nicely, I suppose that you could help me onto my horse. I’d rather not repeat our recent adventure via bicycle in case you don’t mind.” She smirked at him impishly as they both recalled their two-wheeled escapade during their recent case in the village of Aston Clinton.

Jack quickly sobered, however, when she swayed slightly.

“Phryne…”

She immediately adopted her well-used innocent facade before rising up onto her tiptoes to quickly press her red lips against his downturned ones. Jack still refused to budge as she looped her arms around his neck.

“If you wanted to drive the Phantom, Jack, then you had best catch up to Richards and ask him where the keys are kept before Ollington whisks him away.”

The inspector’s mouth twitched slightly as he slowly wound his hands around her waist and lowered his head to respond without words. This time, Phryne’s swaying had nothing to do with Valerian as she leaned against him completely. After they both paused to draw in some necessary air, Jack whispered into her ear after a slight nibble.

“No need to run after anyone except you, perhaps, especially where a speedy car is concerned. I know, for a fact, that an extra set of keys for the Rolls Royce are always in your handbag, Miss Fisher.”

“Of all the men I had to fall for, you just had to be a maddeningly clever detective, didn’t you?”

“Too bloody right.”

 

*-*-*

 

Against the backdrop of the fire crackling away from inside the opulent, marble fireplace of Lord Cravensworth’s study, Chief Constable Ollington presented the remaining illusive puzzle pieces of the tale that had rocked the normally peaceable surroundings of Somerset. His audience listened avidly as he painted the first strokes of the backdrop for the case that cast its origins much further away at another grand home in North Yorkshire.

Quite a few years ago, an erstwhile estate steward by the name of Percival Richardson, was unceremoniously released from his duties. His employers suspected that he had been secretly siphoning off funds he had been entrusted with to run the estate to feed his long-hidden gambling addiction. But, they still lacked any proof and, thus simply turned him out.

Fleeing the north with his illegally gained wealth and two young sons, “Percy Richards” eventually moved into a quiet village in Somerset where he bought a run-down pub. The story was that his wife had died from a long-term illness, leaving him and their two sons with heartache and a sizable inheritance from her side of the family. Father and sons lived mostly non-descript lives after that although Percy’s penchant for a flicker became well-known in certain circles.

Several years later, the Richards family sank lower into debt as Percy’s gambling ways became more prominent. Eventually, his oldest son, Ian, decided to chart his own way and obtained a position as a footman for the MacGowan family at Barrowby Hall despite his father’s attempts to dissuade him from entering service. Percy did seem to have a chip on his shoulder against “those toffs,” but he also saw some benefits to Ian having such close access to this aristocratic family. Thus, after winning a hefty bet against Lord Henry Fisher, the scheming Percy Richards made good on his winnings to wrangle his youngest son, Adam, a position in the Fisher household.

“Takes one to know one,” Miss Fisher had muttered mostly under her breath in exasperation at her father to which Jack had raised an eyebrow and nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Ian Richards had begun to chafe under his fine livery over at the neighbouring estate as the MacGowan family didn’t take too kindly to his “liberal familiarity” with their daughters. Knowing he would find a willing ally in his father, the older son would take the opportunity to visit his father during his free days to complain about their veiled threats to have him sacked. Old wounds flared up for Mr Richards Senior who was on the brink of losing his pub due to unpaid debts and sinking profits due to negligence of his business. Soon, Percy had no choice, but to attempt to sell the place at a major loss. In his mind, his family’s woes were once again being caused by “those damn toffs,” and so father and son set to weaving together their vengeful plan.

“Desperation and revenge make for deadly combinations,” Inspector Robinson commented.

The two elder Richards had then put their heads together and decided that they would strike during the MacGowan family’s upcoming engagement gala for their oldest daughter, Catriona. Knowing that the mansion and surrounding areas would be filled to capacity with the “filthy rich,” they decided to take advantage of the ripe pickings to be had whilst everyone was attending the party for Percy to go through the guest rooms and pilfer what he could of their jewels, money and other portable valuables. The small thefts would also provide a good distraction for their true intention to abduct the younger MacGown daughter for ransom.

“And what better opportunity to do so then when all eyes would be on the shining bride-to-be that evening,” Phryne mulled out loud.

“How did they do it then,” Lord Cravensworth resigned himself to wanting to know every detail even though he knew the answers would bring him pain. He consoled himself with the fact, however, that Moira was now safe and thanked the heavens for that precious miracle. “How did they manage to lure her away?”

“As I’ve mentioned, my lord, it would seem that you, or someone else in your family had noticed the growing familiarity, and possibly attachment being formed between Miss Moira and Mr Ian Richards.” Lord Cravensworth’s grimace indicated his acknowledgement and awareness of this situation all too well.

“Indeed, a discreet warning had been issued,” his lordship confirmed. “To both the footman and my daughter.”

Percival had certainly wagered that this was the best way to lure Moira MacGowan from the house and the party. And so, he encouraged his son to write love messages from a “secret admirer” in the weeks leading up to the ball. The final one would request that she meet him in the maze at an appointed time later that evening.

“But none of these notes was ever recovered from your men’s searches?” The inspector queried.

“Unfortunately, Miss MacGowan had followed her secret admirer’s recommendations to burn all of his missives as he had convinced her of the romantic cloak and dagger aspect of their so-called liaison,” the chief constable explained. “However, she had kept the final one, which she still had on her person during the night of her abduction and hidden away in her underclothing. We have been able to confirm that it was indeed penned by Mr Ian Richards.”

“And the poison? Have you had the lab reports on what exactly they concocted and used on my daughter? And Miss Fisher, of course.” Lord Cravensworth demanded.

“Of course, I was just getting to that, Lord Cravensworth. Based on our interviews, Ian Richards had asked his younger brother, Adam, to make a special request to his fiancee, Lisette Laurent,” Chief Constable Ollington informed them after reviewing the typed statement and his notes. “Ian asked Adam to commission Miss Laurent to make a large supply of some sleeping oils and draughts with the claim that Percy’s arthritis was preventing him from sleeping.”

“And, we all now know what happened instead,” Miss Fisher interjected at this junction in the story. “They used the remedies to drug poor Moira after she arrived at the maze and to keep her subdued afterwards.” She very nearly hid the slight shiver of anger and fear that rippled throughout her body until Jack reached over to grasp her hand in his.

“Yes, that is correct, Miss Fisher,” the chief constable confirmed. “Mr Ian Richards did indeed use an altered version of Miss Laurent’s herbal sleeping draught that the lab report confirms included highly concentrated volumes of illegal alcohol. The perpetrator then used this to drug Miss MacGowan, abduct her, and hide her away in the pyramid folly on the estate. This was also the same substance that he used to incapacitate you, and had intended to use against Inspector Robinson as well.”

“But, we unknowingly disrupted those plans,” Inspector Robinson commented. “And that was where we caught him hiding evidence as well.”

“Precisely,” Ollington agreed as he again consulted his notes. “Richards senior wanted to throw off the investigation by planting suspicion against the new pub owner, Mr Harry Goodwin, in particular. He wanted to get back at him for buying the pub at such a low price and because Mr Goodwin had refused to sell him a pigeon, presumably to train for his purposes.”

“Evidently, Richards the elder managed to procure and train one regardless for his purposes anyway,” Jack stated flatly. “And tried to plant the box with the stolen jewels and the key to the folly along with the clue in the Goodwins’ garden.”

“Until he was interrupted,” Miss Fisher added.

“By a parrot, apparently?” Lord Cravensworth couldn’t help interjecting, lifting an incredulous eyebrow in spite of Phryne’s mischievous grin and the inspector’s attempt not to show his own amusement at this part of their statement.

“Indeed,” Ollington confirmed. “The entire incident spooked him enough to abandon his intentions to leave the second clue. He thought he could move Miss MacGowan and make another ransom demand before attempting to flee the country.”

“But, he didn’t account for a brilliant detective figuring out his agenda before he could,” the inspector squeezed his partner’s hand in both admiration and relief that she seemed to be truly all right in spite of it all.

“Thank, God! And, thank you all, of course,” his lordship leaned forward from across his desk with genuine gratitude and a hint of tears in his handsome features. “Our family will forever owe you an inexpressible debt of gratitude.”

“It was my honour to be able to assist you, my lord,” Chief Constable Ollington responded before turning to look at the two detectives. “And to work alongside you both on this case. Although, it would seem there is one final mystery to solve for the day as soon as Mr Rupert MacGowan can join us.”

“Where is he?” his father grumbled as he reached to pull the old-fashioned rope that would alert one of the household servants that their master had need of them. “I had requested his presence for this particular meeting. He had better be able to explain...”

Lord Cravensworth was all set to launch into a rant about his wayward son and heir when a perfunctory knock stole the room’s attention. At his response, the MacGowan’s butler entered, his normally stoic expression betraying obvious concern.

“Pardon me, my lord,” the staid retainer began, “but I am afraid that I have some bad news.”

“What the...is it Moira?” Cravensworth immediately jumped to his feet.

“No, my lord, Miss Moira is still resting well, and Lady Cravensworth is still with her in Miss Moira’s rooms.”

“Then what is it? Have you located my son yet?”

“That is what I must inform you, my lord. Mr Rupert is nowhere to be found.”

“What the dickens?”

“Do try to calm yourself, Father,” came another voice from the study’s doorway as Catriona MacGowan appeared and made her way into the room. “But, it’s true. Rupert is gone.”

“What do you mean, Catriona,” Phryne broke in as she gave in to her incurable curiosity. “Sounds like you might know where?”

The other woman nodded sombrely.

“He had been acting strangely all last evening, even before the police brought Moira home. After Mother fell asleep by Moira’s bedside, I returned to my room to stretch my legs and grab a book since I had promised her I’d stay awake to keep watch over her.”

“And you ran into Rupert.”

“He was already halfway down the main stairs when I spotted him. He was carrying several of his travel cases. I called out to him, and he stopped, but he didn’t turn around.”

“Where did he go, Catriona?” Her father demanded, but in a softer tone as he sank back into his chair and pinched the skin between his eyes dejectedly.

“He told me to give you and Mother his farewells, and that he would contact you as soon as he and Annie arrived in…‘Joburg.’”

“South Africa?” his lordship roared. “And who the hell is Annie?”

“I believe that I may know the answer to that one, my lord,” Miss Fisher informed him. “I believe that your son has just eloped with Miss Annabelle Clairmont.”


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phrack mull over some final, lingering thoughts of their recent case and visit to Somerset...

Several weeks later, Jack Robinson once again found himself cozily ensconced inside another first class compartment of a train, this time bound towards London. The rhythmic cadence of the train’s wheels combined with the bright sunlight streaming in from the window all conspired with the decadent breakfast still lining his tummy to send him nodding off. 

That was, until a throaty burst of laughter from his travelling companion burst his sleepy bubble. Especially, after she had jumped up from her seat opposite him waving an ornate envelope and undoubtedly extremely expensive pages of parchment towards him.

“Oh, Jack, wait till you hear this!” She pounced onto the plush, velvet seat next to him and leaned into him, eager to share whatever it was she had been reading.

“Is that the latest letter from Jane?” he murmured, nuzzling his sleepy head against her shoulder.

“No, I’ve already read that one. Oh, she said to send you her greetings. And that she hopes to see us back home in Melbourne this Christmas. I’ll tell you what she says in a minute, I promise!”

“I look forward to it,” Jack replied as his eyes began to close again. “So whose expensive taste in stationery has you so enthralled then, Miss Fisher?”

“It’s from Catriona!”

“Isn’t she supposed to be in France somewhere?”

“Yes, to the French Riviera in the south with John. Lots of people tend to flock there this time of year to get away from the dreariness of the autumn and winter here.”

“I imagine she also wanted to get away from everything that’s just happened as well, especially during her engagement ball.”

“Yes, poor dear,” Phryne concurred sympathetically before her eyes again lit up. “But, that’s not what she’s written about.”

“Let me guess,” Jack opened an eye and tilted his head slightly. “She’s heard from her brother. Or something about him, at least.”

“Precisely, Inspector!” Miss Fisher edged her head up to press a rewarding kiss against his cheek. “Sounds like ‘dear, old Rupert’ has indeed tied the knot, as it were.”

“Considering I’ve been a firsthand witness to his, er, attempts at wooing and romance,” Jack pretended to cough. “I do wonder how he managed to convince his fiancee into marrying him?”

“I’d say it was the other way around, actually. Annabelle has been attempting to land an aristocratic match long before her first season in London. Her family comes from a wealthy, trade background since the Industrial Revolution. Cotton, I believe.” 

“Ah, and so, the Clairmonts have never been completely welcomed in upper circles?”

“Except when they need to borrow her father’s money. He now also owns some exclusive banks as well, not that I’ve ever had need of their services. Anyway, it’s no wonder that the thought of becoming a future viscountess is enough to endear such a boor to her.”

“Hmm, I can almost imagine how that may be a consolation.” Phryne smirked at the extra dose of sarcasm dripping from her partner’s words.

“On Rupert’s part, I’m sure the rumours that Annabelle’s father has just negotiated a long-awaited, yet lucrative business merger with his mine in South Africa has suddenly boosted her merits to him rather conveniently.”

“So, how is it that he is to be rewarded for skirting justice?”

“Oh, that’s exactly what has me tickled, Jack! Catriona has written that Rupert’s new father-in-law will be giving him one of his mines as a wedding present.”

“I can imagine that Mr Clairmont is only too thrilled as well to have a future viscount continue the family line,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“The thing is, Jack,” Phryne’s eyes twinkled in that way that forewarned Jack of some pending mischief. “I recognised the name of the mine, all too well, unfortunately.”

“What do you mean? Is it something that you’ve invested in?”

“No, thank heavens! But, it is something that Father was raving about just before we left. Good thing, I’ve always had the sense to double and triple check absolutely everything with my financial advisors before transferring even a pence. I’ve also ensured that my parents’ advisors were made aware of this and that any future investments could only be made with Mother’s explicit and sole signature. To be made in person with three independent witnesses.” 

“Seems to be a wise precaution.”

“Especially where my father is concerned.”

“Hmmm,” Jack nodded sagely as the pieces began to fall into place for him. “So, what will our dear Mr MacGowan be inheriting exactly then?”

“Some poetic justice, I should think,” Phryne smirked again as she began to fan herself with Catriona’s letter. “Dear Rupert will soon find himself the proud new owner of a mine that won’t yield a thing, other than a lot of dust and, perhaps, some rubble. And maybe a sparkly rock or two to convince him there’s more.”

“So long as he doesn’t attempt to pin some unwitting fool for his own lack of foresight!”

After sharing another hearty laugh at Rupert’s expense and updating Jack on Jane’s news and another letter from Dot, the two detectives settled into a contented silence together. Phryne remained cuddled against Jack’s side, assuming he had resumed his doze, as she re-read a few of her missives. Before long, she more sensed than saw that he was still awake and that something was on his mind. She tucked the letters beside her on the seat and turned until she was facing him completely.

“What is percolating inside that brilliant mind of yours, Inspector? I can practically smell it brewing.”

“I was actually thinking about entrapment, Miss Fisher.”

“Sounds serious.”

“I’ve always told you that I’m a very serious man.”

“Then tell me, seriously, why that of all things is on your mind, Inspector.”

“Well,” he straightened slightly in order to wrap his arm around her more fully. “All this talk about MacGowan’s elopement, and the reasons behind it made me assess their situation…”

“Compared to ours?” Phryne ventured curiously.

“Yes, Phryne,” he confirmed. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you told me when we were staying at that pub.” 

“What do you mean, Jack?” She reached out to cup his face, her brow furrowing slightly when he continued to stare downwards at the long-forgotten book in his lap.

“I really do feel honoured by your stance, Phryne, and how noble it has been of you to imply our ‘engagement’ is to ‘protect’ me as you described it.”

“But?” He quickly turned his penetrating gaze towards her own when he registered her worried tone and lifted a warm hand to cover hers reassuringly.

“But, I really want to be sure that that is something you’re truly comfortable with, Phryne. I’m more delighted than I can properly describe by the extent of your declaration to me. And, you know I feel the same way about you from the bottom of my heart.”

Phryne nodded with a small smile of understanding before diving back towards him and wrapping her own arms around the inspector’s middle, squeezing him in response.

“Basically, I don’t ever want you to feel trapped or caged, Phryne. By me. By us. By anything. I really want you to know that I want to be with you, of course, but also, that I will be there for you regardless of our ‘official status’ or whatever you or society wants to label us.” 

He reached out his free hand to intertwine with one of hers that was still wrapped around him.

“Whatever we decide about us, especially after we return to Melbourne, I want you to know that your ability to remain free is vital for me. I know how you feel about marriage. Hopefully, you now know how I feel about it, and especially how difficult it can be to be released from one. It’s certainly not something to be rushed into.”

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered softly, leaning over to try to erase the slight melancholy that had enveloped his features as he spoke.

“I also know, perhaps, better than most, that current laws don’t allow married women much freedom, and that they are still viewed as possessions of their husbands with no rights of their own. Which is definitely not a view that I personally hold, have never held, nor would I ever, as I also hope you know.”

“I do, Jack. Of course, I do. Just as I know that such an honourable man as yourself would want to tell me all this.” She gripped his hand reassuringly. “It’s something that I have always admired and loved about you.”

He blushed slightly at her words, which earned him a lingering press of soft lips against his cheek that trailed down towards his neck.

“And, like I told you before, Inspector,” she continued still holding his hand. “I never do anything that I don’t want to do. And right now, I’m happy to tell whoever needs to know that you are my fiance because it is, perhaps, the only relevant title in our limited language and societal structure that can portray your importance in my life.”

Now, he looked like he was blinking back tears, which prompted her to tighten her arms around him as she nestled even closer against him.

“Whatever happens, Inspector, and no matter what others want to label you...or us...know that you’ll always be my friend, my partner...my Jack.”

As he was wont to do more and more of late, Jack leaned down to respond with a deep kiss filled with all that he was unable to express verbally at the moment. And as she was inclined to do, she wound her arms around his neck and slipped into his lap to show him her reply oblivious to the miles of countryside passing them by. 

Eventually, they both relaxed into one another's arms simply basking in one another's nearness. At length, he could tell by her even breathing that she too had fallen under the train’s slumbering spell. 

“My Miss Fisher,” he confirmed softly as he kissed the top of her silky head and settled in to join her in response to the lulling sounds of the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks and hugs again to the incomparable @comeaftermejackrobinson for reviewing her own birthday fic! Hope it was just what you wished for, my dear!
> 
> Thank you again for joining me on Phrack's latest undercover adventure, which was fun to explore at the Fisher's country estate. I do feel rather bereft that this tale has come to an end, and I haven't forgotten about my teasers for their next undercover caper...overseas in Canada. That might have to be put on hold until I find more time, but I hope to write it at some point soon. 
> 
> In the meantime, I'm looking forward to Phryne Ficathon 3 (don't worry, I've signed up for it!) and getting back to writing some trope fics! Feel free to send me any prompts or fic ideas too!
> 
> And as always, massive thanks to you all for reading and sharing your thoughts, they always warm my heart and boost my spirits!


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